


A Smith and his Forge

by acervate



Series: A Smith and His Forge [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Courtship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, all that junk where smaug took erebor never happened, bilbo is still a respectable little hobbit, but not for long, i'm playing around with ages a bit in this, the whole company is a bunch of merchants, thorin is a blacksmith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 157,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acervate/pseuds/acervate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's door gets jammed one day. Luckily, a company of dwarves just so happened to have set up shop in front of the old smithy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at whompingwillowss.tumblr.com

To an outsider, the Shire was an odd land. With their homes being holes in the ground, with its people and their fuzzy woolen feet, and with the green, rolling hills, seemingly untouched by any sort of war or misfortune in the land's history. That was inaccurate, as the occasional bad harvest always wrecked havoc on those poor Hobbits. Now, hobbits love their food, so any drop in the normal crop intake was always a troubling time.

The soil was almost always good however, and their food stores were plentiful. No one, not even the poorest of hobbits went hungry. They had good food, drink, and family.

Bilbo wondered if that was why Bag End always felt so empty nowadays, just him and the portraits of his dead parents occupying the residence. Not that he minded it; a bit of alone time was fine. He was a bachelor, and that was perfectly fine. If he got lonely, there were plenty of hobbits he called friends that he could invite over for tea. No, Bilbo Baggins lived a fine life, even if the home his father had built for his mother, made to house a large, plentiful family now housed only a single hobbit.

Bilbo had a certain routine that kept him from thinking about how Bag End echoed with the sound of his solitary footsteps and not the chatter and laughter of his parents. He rose each morning, made breakfast, cleaned the plates, then washed himself. He did a bit of cleaning, picking up little items that weren't in their place and set them right again, then rewarded himself with a smoke on his pipe.

As it turned out, he was doing just that; sitting outside and enjoying the warm weather as he blew out smoke rings. The tiny circles puffed out and went up into the sky, dissipating slowly as they went higher up. Bilbo sighed and a smile crossed his face. He leaned back against the bench, drawing in another breath, and tasting the sweet, slightly floral smoke of his pipe-weed. It didn't burn as it went down, not like some of the tobacco he had once sampled. It had came all the way from Bree, and was liberated off an old friend of his mum's when Bilbo had been far younger and far more unabashed in his actions. Think, him, nicking tobacco from an old wizard who'd popped in to see his mother! Nevertheless, he couldn't remember the man's name for the life of him, but it was no matter. It wasn't as though he would be seeing him much anymore.

 

With one final inhale and puff of smoke, Bilbo tapped out the ash in his pipe on the edge of the bench and stood. He stretched his back briefly, groaning when it cracked. He twiddled with his pipe as he walked to his door, grabbed the knob and pushed it only to walk right into it.

Oh. Wait a minute.

Bilbo pushed against the door again, but it refused to budge. He tried with more force, pushing with his shoulder only to rub at it when the solid wood made him sore.

Bilbo stepped back and huffed, crossing his arms glaring at the door as if doing so would make it open.

Marvelous. It was jammed. 

Not having expected this misfortune to befall him, the back door hadn't been unlocked earlier that morning. Bilbo stomped a foot down angrily and resisted the urge to kick the door.

" _Bugger_!" He whispered, stepping back more and wondering what he should do.

A voice caught his attention and he allowed a smile to pull at his face as Hamfast Gamgee waved at him.

"Afternoon, Mister Bilbo." He greeted, the hobbit's jolly face lighting up as he grinned. Bilbo sighed as his smile grew. Bless that Hamfast, he always managed to bring Bilbo up from whatever mood he was preparing to sink into. "Is something wrong with your door?"

"Oh goodness, yes!" Bilbo said. "I stepped out to have a smoke, and my door up went and jammed itself." Hamfast chuckled as he opened the outside gate of his own property and began to walk over.

"Ay, that door always stuck when we were younger." He commented, grinning again. "Got us caught many times when we tried to make off with the cookie jar." Bilbo grinned too, patting his friend's shoulder as he came up to stand beside Bilbo. As an only child, Bilbo had made many friends to fill the spot beside him that a sibling usually occupied. Hamfast was the first certainly, and by far the best. That was not to say he didn't appreciate his cousins and other hobbits, but Hamfast was a better friend then any of them ever might be. They were as good as brothers, just without a relation by blood.

"It did, indeed." Bilbo replied, shaking his head. Oh, he and Hamfast were certainly a handful when they had been fauntlings. Bilbo was usually the mastermind behind the plan, as Hamfast hardly had a mischievous bone in his body. He did have unwavering loyalty to his best friend however, and rarely hesitated to go along with whatever scheme the only son of Bungo and Belladonna had thought up. Baggins he was, but Took also. The mischief of that side of the family never failed to incorporate itself into Bilbo's fun when he was younger.

Hamfast pushed at the door, turning the knob as he did. It hardly budged, even when Bilbo joined in and tried to help him. Hamfast stepped back and drew a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his forehead. "My apologies, Mister Bilbo, but that door isn't going to be moving for us!"

Bilbo groaned. "What should I do then? I'd rather not have to have the whole thing removed. It's a good door, the lock is just a bit sticky."

"Hmm," Hamfast mumbled. "Well...no, maybe not."

"What, what is it?" Bilbo asked. The other hobbit hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Well, a company of dwarves settled down a few days ago." He explained. "They're doing a bit of trading and what not, so maybe they'd do some odd jobs? They don't look poor, but I'm sure they'd be much obliged for a bit of pay from helping you fix this."

Dwarves! Of course, how wonderful! Bilbo knew about dwarves, at least the bits that he had picked up from tales as a fauntling, and his books now. They were quite hardy and based on the illustrations that had become long worn by he and his mother's hands, marvelous architects and craftsmen. Surely, fixing a door would be one of the easiest possible things to do. Bilbo grinned at Hamfast and patted his shoulder.

"Lovely idea! I shall take a trip down there right now and see what I find. Dwarves are wonderful craftsmen you know, and--"

If asked, it wouldn't take much cajoling for Hamfast to admit that once Bilbo got started on a particular subject, he was nearly unstoppable. So, the hobbit simply nodded and gave his friend a nudge.

"Yes, yes, you've told me this more times than I can count." Hamfast said, laughing.

"Hamfast Gamgee," Bilbo said with a wry grin. "If I wasn't such an intelligent hobbit, why, I'd think you didn't want to hear my story!"

"No, Mister Bilbo," he replied, "I'm just trying to prevent you from spending the rest of your day talking about dwarves rather than actually finding one and seeing about that door!" 

Bilbo laughed again and nodded. "Yes, well, you have my thanks for that then!" He said goodbye to Hamfast as the gardener returned to his own property and set down Bagshot Row, a slight smile now plastered to his face.

 

The market in the square of Hobbiton was bustling with activity like usual, many different conversations all flowing together into mass noise. There were various stands around, selling bright, fresh fruit and vegetables, and Bilbo had to move to avoid bumping into a young hobbit who ran past him. Other farmers pulled their cows through the crowd, rope around their necks slack as the animals lumbered behind their owners. A woman a few years younger than him--Marigold, his mind supplied instantly--waved to him with a bright smile on her face. Bilbo waved back, a grin taking over his own expression. They'd been friends for as long as Bilbo could remember, though they'd certainly grown a but apart in the last few years. He hadn't had anymore than a few quick chats with her in more than a few months. He looked at her again but she was already looking elsewhere, so Bilbo continued his search for the company of dwarves. He was prepared to enter one of the large canvas tents where other stands were usually held to prevent overcrowding on the roads, when some smoke in the near distance caught his eye.

Following its path, Bilbo saw that it rose from the old smithy. He nodded. Yes, of course! Dwarves were blacksmiths also, and it would make sense that they would make use of some old shop that was doing nothing but gathering dust.

The crowd was thick as he approached the smithy, and for good reason. There were stands outside the shop as well, with many dwarves occupying them no less. Bilbo walked over to one and was delighted at what he saw on it. There were all types of toys laid out, whittled away from a wood that certainly wasn't available here in the Shire. Bilbo walked slowly along the stands, eyes roaming over the products with a curious eye.

 

"Yes, pardon me, excuse me!" Bilbo said more than once as he bumped into someone. He paused at a stand that was selling what looked to knives and other kitchenware. He paused, fingers going out to run along a copper pot's surface. He  _did_  need a new one...

Bilbo was snapped from his admiring as a pair of dwarves plopped down in front of him, wide grins plastered on their faces. They were both clad in tunics, the brown haired one wearing a blue and the blonde wearing green. They both had facial hair, though the brunette noticeably only had little more than stubble. The resemblance between the two was obvious; brothers without a doubt. The blonde was older most likely, if the good sized braids in his moustache were a telling sign. The younger dwarf placed his head in his hands as he looked at Bilbo.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked Bilbo, grin widening further. The blonde dwarf elbowed him in the side sharply.

"Manners, Kíli! Honestly, what are these Shire folk going to think if you can't even introduce yourself properly." The blonde dwarf gave him a dazzling smile and bowed his head. "Fíli, at your service."

"Bilbo Baggins, uh, at yours." Bilbo shifted a bit as the pair laughed at him, joyful voices making him feel warm and overwhelmed at the same time.

"A Boggins, Fili!" Kili said.

"You hobbits all have rather queer names." Fili said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Bilbo felt his face heat up at the comment and he pressed his mouth into a small line. "We certainly do not! And it's  _Baggins_! With an  _a_!"

"Yes Kili, you hear that?" Fili mock scolded. "It's with an  _a!"_  The two laughed and Bilbo wasn't sure if he should be amused at the obviously young dwarves jokes, or go back to his original plan of actually getting his door fixed.

"Fíli, he's gone a bit red! Oh, he's awfully cute like that, isn't he?"  
He was  _certainly_ not amused, thank you very much!

  
As the dwarf pair jested and picked fun, Bilbo found himself floundering for what to do. Oh, he didn't want to simply walk away because that would be rude, and the dwarves weren't  _actually_  being mean or anything, but he'd much like his door repaired! The sound of heavy footsteps met his ears and large hands clapped the pair on their shoulders.

"Move it along, lads! I know better than to let you handle this." This particular dwarf--Dwalin, as he heard Kíli protest, was much taller than Bilbo and loomed over him with a visible strength. He was gruff sounding, and when he turned his gaze over to Bilbo, the hobbit fiddled with his waistcoat nervously.

"Dwalin, at your service." His face had a perpetual frown to it, eyes narrowed as if sizing the hobbit up. Which he probably was, and Bilbo hoped he amounted to something. Bilbo fumbled for words, opening his mouth and closing it once before he actually spoke.

"Ah yes, well um-"

"Speak up lad, I can't understand all the mumbling!"

"My door is jammed, and I don't know what to do!" Bilbo told him, voice rising. When a hobbit or two glanced in his direction, he leaned forward instead of talking louder. "I was hoping, ah, well that perhaps one of you could spare a bit of time to fix it."

"Mhmm." Dwalin nodded slowly, a bushy eyebrow raised as if there was something odd about Bilbo's request. The hobbit flushed further and fiddled with his waistcoat again.

"I'll pay of course! After all, it's labor and it's taking time away from someone being here and you certainly didn't come to the Shire to fix doors-" Bilbo cut himself off when Dwalin walked off, leaving Fíli and Kíli to swoop in on him again.

"Ooo, Mr. Boggins is locked out of his house! Why, that's what you get for building in all that grass." Kíli said, nodding firmly. Fíli nodded with him.

"Yes, most definitely. Grass!" He scoffed. "Now what you folk need it some hearty stone!" He grinned proudly. "That'll make you a kingdom far grander than some hole in a hill or Mahal forbid, an Elven tree." The pair made a face in disgust and Bilbo resisted the urge to groan, seeing as he wasn't getting anywhere.

"Exactly! Say, Fíli, why don't we fix Mister Boggins--"

"Baggins." Bilbo told them weakly. The pair laughed.

"Mister  _Baggins's_  door! I'm sure Uncle won't mind us slipping off for a few minutes-"

"And I'm sure that you should ask before you go anywhere." Bilbo's eyes trailed up this new dwarf's form, suddenly found it hard to swallow. Cool pale eyes looked into his for a second, and Bilbo could feel his heart skip a beat. The dwarf had on a light blue tunic that was belted at the waist with a strip of braided leather, and dark, dark hair flowing down in dense waves. His hair didn't shine like a hobbit's, but Bilbo wondered if it was soft nonetheless. There were twin braids on each side of his head, going down to his chest and being finished off with a gleaming silver bead each. His beard was short when compared to the other dwarves in his company, and silver streaked at the base of his hair, going up shortly until it darkened back into its original inky black shade

"You two will stay here and try to be more approachable." The dwarf told them, scold lightened by his slightly playful tone. Fili scoffed.

"But we're friendly!"

"You're overbearing." He corrected, clapping both their shoulders before turning his attention back to Bilbo.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service." His voice was low, rumbling, and a shiver shot through Bilbo's spine, white hot and making his toes curl. He hurried to reply in suit, mentally chastising himself for acting so foolish.

"B-Bilbo Baggins, at yours." He stuttered, swallowing hard when Thorin gave him an unimpressed look.

"Where is your home?"

"Pardon?" Bilbo replied stupidly, ears burning in embarrassment as Thorin heaved a great sigh and Fíli and Kíli stifled laughs. Bugger, oh bugger it all, Bilbo thought unhappily.

"It's up at the hill." He finally managed out, gesturing with his hands. Thorin nodded.

"The big one at the top?" He asked.

"Yes, that's the one." Bilbo offered a small smile, but it went widely unnoticed. Thorin nodded then walked back into the smithy, saying something to Dwalin who stood near the doorway. Bilbo stood there nervously, oddly disquieted by Fíli and Kíli's newfound silence. They were chattering to each other, and when Kíli sent a glance back at Bilbo and the hobbit looked at him in confusion, he giggled. Bilbo had no clue what they were talking about but if it sent a  _dwarf_ into a fit of  _giggles_  when he looked at him, Bilbo was quite content not knowing!

Thorin came out of the smithy once more, a bag now on his shoulder. He looked down at Bilbo with what the hobbit wasn't sure either disdain or outright  _distaste_  and nodded his head in the direction of Bag End.

"Let's go." He said and when Fíli and Kíli chortled to themselves, he sent them a suspicious look. The dwarves made themselves look at nonchalant as possible, which drew but a sigh from Thorin. He and Bilbo walked away from the stand and onto the road, where it was thankfully less crowded. Bilbo assumed that it was because Thorin was quite terrifying in the nicest sense of the word, and none wanted to bump into him. 

 

Thorin was blessedly quiet as they walked and Bilbo was thankful for it; He didn't think he'd be able to hear the dwarf's voice without his heart rate accelerating and his feet going clumsy. He did wonder what Thorin was thinking about though. Was it how much of a nuisance Bilbo was being in dragging him up here? How he was being all so put upon? Bilbo sighed quietly, earning a raised eyebrow in return.

"Is something the matter?" Thorin asked, eyes still focused forward. Bilbo swallowed and shook his head.

"Ah, um no. No, it's nothing. I'm just..." he began to trail off, and Thorin finally turned to look at him. Bilbo's heart jumped into his throat and he swallowed again.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience. It must ah, be a hassle to come and help me." He finished, laughing nervously. Thorin made a noncommittal noise at that.

"We travel to use our trades and earn our due. If an opportunity requires someone to go off, then so be it. My company and I live like this. It's not as though it hasn't been done many times before."

Bilbo nodded weakly. "Yes, yes of course." They lapsed back into silence and Bilbo's mind whirred away, thinking of the dwarves he had spoken to in the marketplace. He tried another stab at some conversation.

"Quite the company you've got too. Fíli and Kíli are rather, uh, well-"

"Rambunctious? Loud?  _Hellish_ _?_ " Thorin muttered, making Bilbo laugh slightly. He nodded.

"I was going to say friendly, but those work as well. They had me in quite the tizzy, poking fun at us hobbits, fiddling with my name." Bilbo laughed again. "They're quite nice."

Thorin had a pleased smile growing ever so slightly as he listened to Bilbo describe his nephews. "Aye, that's them. A handful, I assure you."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Bilbo said wryly, and he smiled at Thorin. "You're really their uncle? I must say, and pardon me for doing so, I don't see much of a resemblance." Bilbo paused. "In Fíli at least."

Thorin snorted. "Yes, he looks more like his father than his brother. Kíli has his mother's looks, and mine as well by default."

Bilbo smiled. "You have a sister?"

"Aye, and a brother."

  
Bilbo nodded. "Really now? Hm, well then."

  
"You sound surprised." Thorin said, looking at him. Bilbo smiled sheepishly.

  
"I've never met a dwarf that has siblings. All of the ones I've met so far are always alone or with friends." 

Thorin gave him a curious look.

"You see many dwarves then?"

The question caught Bilbo off guard and he stuttered for a reply. "Yes. No. Well, I see those who come passing through in their way to the Blue Mountains and or um, the other way off to who knows where, and I've never really spoken to any of them  besides you and the ones in your company, well, except in passing conversation, so perhaps I'm misguided in saying such a thing about your folk, and I'm babbling, oh dear me..." Bilbo's face burned and he apologized quietly before pressing his mouth into a tight line to keep anymore words from spilling out.  _Oh bugger, I really am acting foolish,_  Bilbo thought grimly.

Thorin seemed vaguely amused when Bilbo dared to look at him again, his expression a frown, but his eyes alight. Bilbo should've seen that coming, yes. A hobbit tumbling over his words over a tiny question? Grade A humor, for both hobbits and dwarves alike. Some of his family would've been laughing themselves silly by now, so Bilbo was grateful that Thorin was able to  _mostly_  keep his expression neutral. So absorbed was he in his own thoughts, that he missed most of what Thorin had been saying.

"I'm sorry?" Bilbo said meekly, terribly embarrassed that he hadn't been listening. At this rate, Thorin was going to be fed up by the time they reached Bag End, go back to the smithy, and be out of a fixed door, as well as his home!

"How many siblings do you have?" Thorin repeated, seeming to repress a sigh. Bilbo hastened to shake his head.

"None." He answered, earning a puzzled look from Thorin.

"I thought that hobbits had large families. Lots of..." he made a vague gesture at the ground and moved his hands as if trying to catch something. Bilbo smiled wryly.

"Fauntlings? Children?" He supplied, and Thorin nodded.

"I was unsure of the word your folk uses." He admitted and Bilbo laughed.

"Yes, well we call them either. And to answer your question," he continued, "Most families usually do. My parents were just fine to stop at one though." Bilbo said, lying about the second part. He doubted a dwarf would care to hear about how lucky his parents were to have him, and too scared by past loss to try their luck again. Bilbo's explanation seemed to satisfy Thorin, if the grunt he made in reply was anything to go by.

"You were right earlier." He said, and Bilbo inclined his head in query. "Dwarves usually have very small families. One, two children at most. That I have two other siblings is very lucky."

The sudden influx of information passed as quickly as it came and Thorin seemed to close off from Bilbo. The hobbit was disappointed; he was nice, once you got through the threatening, bearded exterior. However, the tidbit of information about dwarves he had disclosed was certainly nice, and would be a wonderful addition to the books he already had on the race, sparse when it came to their families.

As they walked up Bagshot Row, Bilbo caught Hamfast peering over his hedge, curiously watching his friend and the dwarf near Bag End. Bilbo gave him a stern look, ruined by the smile on his face, and Hamfast grinned before returning to his gardening.

"Who was that?" Thorin asked, causing Bilbo to start slightly.

"Oh, that's Gaffer Gamgee." Bilbo replied, smiling at him. "He was the one who mentioned that you and your company had moved into the market."

Thorin nodded, expression not showing what he thought of that. Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh. For someone who seemed to travel a lot, Thorin was pretty poorly equipped in a social environment.

 _Perhaps he just didn't like strangers,_  Bilbo thought.  _Oh, I'm probably making him uncomfortable with all those questions and my ramblings!_

Thorin spoke again when he dropped his bag on the ground, looking at Bilbo.

"You said it's jammed?" He asked, frowning more when Bilbo nodded. Thorin crouched down to peer at the lock, fingers running over the cool iron. Bilbo swallowed, throat suddenly feeling tight. Thorin had rather nice hands, he thought offhandedly, face heating up when he realized so.

A sudden bang launched him from his thoughts and he looked at Thorin in surprise. The dwarf was using his body weight to try and get the door to open, pushing against it, muscles shifting as he did.

"Ah, um, Mister Oakenshield-" he began, voice cracking slightly. He cut off when the door swung open, allowing Bilbo to gaze into Bag End once more. Thorin stepped back and shifted his arm, running at the shoulder he had used. Bilbo couldn't stop the grin that took over his face at the interior of his home, looking at Thorin with a delighted expression. Thorin merely picked up his bag and gestured at the door.

"May I enter?" He asked, and Bilbo nodded hurriedly, urging him inside. The hobbit sighed as he looked around Bag End, smile firmly in place. He turned back to Thorin to see him crouched down again, inspecting the lock once more.

"I cannot see anything that would cause it to jam." Thorin said. "Perhaps it has to do with the mechanisms inside. Would you mind if I were to take the lock off?"

"Oh no, go right ahead." Bilbo replied. "We hobbits rarely lock our doors in the first place, I'll be fine without it." Thorin nodded and reached into his bag, taking out various tools. Bilbo stood near the doorway, watching as Thorin began to take the lock off the door and laid the bits of it in a neat pile. He seemed unaware of Bilbo's presence, or if not, didn't mind having someone watch him while he worked. Bilbo watched his large, strong hands move carefully as they worked at the lock, taking off screws and running his fingers over the gilded edging with such delicacy--

"Would you um, like a drink?" Bilbo asked, trying to clear his mind of some very intrusive thoughts indeed! Thorin glanced in his direction with an eyebrow raised, as though he were surprised by the offer.

"I would not mind one." Thorin replied hesitantly, as if he were wary of saying the wrong thing. Bilbo nodded and gave him a smile before scurrying off to his kitchen. He heaved a sigh as he put the kettle over the flame to allow the water to boil, and leaned against the counter. Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to get control over his mind once more.

 _What is_ _happening_ _to me_ , Bilbo thought sullenly.  _I am acting like a right fool and poor Mister_ _Oakenshield_ _probably thinks_ _I'm_ _just so._

It occurred to Bilbo as he stood there that he hadn't actually asked Thorin what he wanted for a drink and suppressed a groan.  Willing himself to act normal, and not so confoundedly _odd,_ Bilbo went back to where Thorin now sat on the floor, a rag in his hands, cleaning off the lock. Bilbo's curiosity for the process over rid his actual motive for coming back in and he peered over Thorin's shoulder at the dark iron lock.

"Do you erm, know what's wrong with it?" He asked. Thorin turned to glance over his shoulder at Bilbo before nodding.

"Yes, I believe so. See here, the lock has gathered rust in the inside," Bilbo's eyes followed to where Thorin pointed, and he could clearly see the flaky, red orange patches on the metal. "This caused the lock to become harder to move, and made the door become stuck. A good cleaning and oiling should remedy it, though if not, a new one might have to be forged."

"How interesting..." Bilbo murmured, finger going out to trace along a rusted part. Thorin seemed to stiffen as he leaned slightly over him and Bilbo drew back quickly. He cleared his throat.

"Oh, well um, I'm terribly sorry but I didn't ask you what you wanted for a drink before." Bilbo clenched his hands and silently begged for his face to stop heating up as it did. "I was making tea, but if you would rather water or, or wine, or--"

"Isn't it a bit early for spirits?" Thorin asked wryly, and Bilbo nearly bashed his head against a wall. Now Thorin would think him a drunk! Or worse, he would think that Bilbo was trying to get  _him_  drunk so that he could swindle the dwarf out of a profit-

"Yes, yes I didn't mean it!" Bilbo hastened to reply. "Oh dear me, I apologize--"

"Tea will be fine." Thorin cut him off quietly, a ghost of an amused smile flickering at his lips. He didn't look the least bit suspicious of Bilbo's nervous babbling, much to the hobbit's relief. Bilbo nodded again before hurrying off to the kitchen once more, willing his heart to stop its suddenly elevated pace. It did no such thing, which set the hobbit's usually patient temper at its brink.

Thorin was fairly attractive. Yes, Bilbo would freely admit to that. In fact, the dwarf was incredibly attractive. For all the talk he had heard of dwarves, of their dusty clothing and calloused hands, dispositions hardened from years upon years of work and efforts, to get not much more than scorn in return, Thorin seemed to be a class above them. Yes, he was frankly a bit terrifying. If Bilbo had been an easily intimidated hobbit, he probably would've resorted to taking his own door off rather than inviting a dwarf into his home. But Bilbo was not that hobbit, which wasn't particularly a good quality at this point in time. Oh, what would his father say! His only son, a perfectly respectable hobbit having some very  _non respectable_ thoughts about a travelling dwarven smith! Bungo would've likely gone red in the face, his cheeks puffing with disbelief and indignation at such a thing. Belladonna, however, would've given Bilbo a sweet smile and laid a hand on her husband's arm as she asked Bilbo how  _cute_  he was. Cute, for goodness sake!

Bilbo knew his thoughts were getting away from him, and quickly decided to ignore them all together. Bilbo would give Thorin his tea, Thorin would fix the door, and then Bilbo could go back to his routine and not have any further interruptions in the form of a tall, bearded, strong, undeniably attractive dwarf who would most likely be  _wonderful_ in bed--

Bilbo opened the cupboard forcefully as he drew out two cups, his hands shaking slightly as he prepared the tea. He would  _not_  think about that kind of thing right now. No, no, he wouldn't think about it at all. Thorin probably had a wife back home, maybe children as well. It was incredibly distasteful for Bilbo to let those thoughts enter his head.

He took a deep breath as he walked back out into the foyer. Thorin was bent over the lock, carefully putting the now cleaned pieces back together. His fingers moved slowly, taking extra care as though the iron was fragile and he could easily destroy it. He looked up when Bilbo stepped closer, setting the lock down to take the cup of tea that was being offered.

"I didn't know how you liked yours, so I didn't add anything." Bilbo told him. He smiled slightly. "I could uh, add milk or sugar if you want that..."

"This is fine, thank you." Thorin replied, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. He didn't show any signs of disliking it, which Bilbo took as a small victory. Bilbo slid his gaze from Thorin's face to the lock, looking at the small inner workings of it. He enjoyed fiddling with things, maybe he would learn how to do this himself one day.  _Probably not_ , Bilbo mused as he took a sip of his own tea. He caught Thorin looking at him and cleared his throat as he took a step back.

"I'll um, be in my study when you've finished. Just come and find me, the room will be through there." Bilbo's gesture was vague and there were other rooms along the way, but Thorin only nodded before returning to working on the lock.

Bilbo let his shoulders slump when he sat down in his chair, fingers brushing over the paper on his desk. The whitish yellow parchment already had words on it, letters carefully formed with black ink that contrasted the paper brightly. He was in the middle of writing a small story for a few of his much younger cousins who enjoyed his tales greatly. This one in particular had been about an elf, one who was very lonely and wished for a friend. Bilbo wondered if perhaps the friend he made should be a dwarf, maybe one with fiery red hair that would be a sharp contrast to the elf's own blonde tone. As far as Bilbo knew, dwarves and elves didn't get along due to a long history of differences. Perhaps he could make the story revolve around a lesson of acceptance, and casting past troubles aside. His cousins always managed to figure out what lesson his stories tried to portray, and followed them as such. Maybe it would lead them to trying to befriend the dwarves in Thorin's company. Fíli and Kíli seemed like the type who were delighted by children. If Bilbo was a good judge of character, which he  _was_ , the pair seemed like they would get into mischief with the various fauntlings in Hobbiton. Oh, the havoc a group of them would create...

Bilbo set to writing, becoming immersed in the story. So distracted was he that he didn't hear Thorin clear his throat, nor his name being said the first time.

" _Master_ _Baggins_ _."_ Bilbo snapped from his writing to see Thorin in the doorway, having the air of someone who had clearly been standing there awhile, waiting for a reply. Bilbo's face burned in embarrassment and he hurried to put down his pen, nearly spilling ink on his page.

 

"Yes, I'm sorry." He said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "You've finished then?"

Thorin nodded and waited in the doorway as Bilbo came over, joining him as they walked back to the door. Thorin had put the lock back together  _and_  put it back on the door. He spoke quietly about how it should no longer stick, and said something about the rust or some other thing, but Bilbo wasn't particularly paying attention. He watched Thorin speak and move, watched the dark hair shift as Thorin did, pieces falling from his shoulder to instead rest on his chest.

 _He could be a king_ , Bilbo thought. 

This time when Thorin finished talking, Bilbo was able to act like he had followed along while Thorin spoke.

"Wonderful," he said with a smile. "Thank you so much. Now, how much will it be?"

"Pardon?" Thorin said, and Bilbo motioned at the door.

"How much is the price? For labor and the time you spent here?"

Thorin seemed, almost conflicted for a moment before finally shaking his head. "It costs nothing."

Oh, he must've heard  _that_ wrong.

"Nothing?" Bilbo echoed. "Surely you want some pay. I am not stingy, Mister Oakenshield. I will pay whatever you ask."

"I do not think you to be a miser, Master Baggins." He replied. "But this was simple. Mundane. To ask for pay on such a meager thing would be selfish." 

"Well then, be selfish!" Bilbo exclaimed. Thorin gave him an unimpressed look.

"You are being stubborn. I shall accept no pay and that is final." With that, Thorin gathered up his bag and left Bag End, setting off down Bagshot Row. Bilbo stood there a moment, quite surprised at being blown off. He squared his shoulders and went after Thorin, grabbing the dwarf's sleeve and making him stop.

"Now you listen to me!" Bilbo said. "You might think it's a kindness to me if you don't accept any payment, but I find it rather annoying. That was fine work you did for me, and you deserve  _something._ What do you want, if not money? Food, drink?"

Thorin's expression darkened, much to Bilbo's confusion. Had he said something wrong?

"It is you who is being annoying, Master  _Baggins_ _."_ He snapped. "I do not need food or drink, or any kind of  _charity_ from someone who looks like a grocer. Please, keep your pay to yourself and leave me be." Thorin set off again, leaving Bilbo standing there with his mouth open, but no sound coming out.

Well.

 _That_  was unexpected. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate titles for this story include, but are not limited to : "lots of smithin' and lots of frickin", "love at first jammed door" and "that one au where thorin is a blacksmith and he wants to bang bilbo"


	2. Chapter 2

Hobbits were miserable little creatures and Thorin officially wanted nothing more to do with them.

 

Unfortunately, being in the Shire made that slightly difficult, believe it or not. As Thorin walked back to the smithy, his nostrils flared and his hands fisted angrily, he couldn't believe what had happened. How dare that wretched Bilbo Baggins act the way he did! He just couldn't take no for an answer, insisting to pay Thorin back. And then to offer food and drink as though he couldn't provide for himself!

 

Oh yes, Thorin was absolutely  _seething._ He did not need charity from a  halfling  who didn't even reach his shoulder. And to think, he had expected him to act differently from any of the men or elves. They tended to  _pity_  Thorin and his company, looking at them as if they were in nothing but rags; beggars at best. On the contrary, his company wore decent clothing, and were all well fed. They were not  _beggars_ , they were skilled merchants who were excellent at their trade. To be pitied! It was downright insulting.

 

The hobbit was a master of deceit on top of it all! Bilbo had been pleasant enough, a bit skittish and nervous, but it wasn't as though Thorin had expected him to be completely comfortable with someone outside his race. After all, he highly doubted the hobbit had ever left the Shire, let alone Hobbiton. He was kind as well, trying to make conversation with him even though he could've just as easily kept quiet. And his grin of sheer relief and glee when his door finally opened!

 

Oh yes, Bilbo had played his part well. He'd offered Thorin a drink and stuttered when he was  _teased_! Thorin didn't know what brought him to do that, but it didn't matter. No, Bilbo acted impeccably, like a friend if Thorin ever had one, and it was great. Wonderful even.

 

Oh, Dwalin would grumble insistently when he found out that the little hobbit who fiddled with his waistcoat when he was nervous was just another pity filled being. Fíli and Kíli would probably be a bit disappointed, especially after he had been so nice to them earlier, but it didn't matter. No, they needed to learn that people thought lowly of travelling merchants, especially dwarves. They always insisted that people liked them, that they could win them over. Let it be said that Thorin would never ignore their resolve in such matters.

 

As he walked, the anger lessened just a tad. Not enough for him to think he overreacted, or that he had been stubborn too, just enough for him to think a bit more rationally. He'd given Bilbo a clear message. He only hoped that he would heed it. What kind of person in their right mind would brave a space filled with the friends and family of a dwarf after offending said dwarf so horribly? Hobbits were soft little creatures; he doubted that he would be seeing much of Bilbo Baggins again.

 

Thorin looked like thunder as he tromped back into the smithy. Hobbits moved out of his way quickly, some a bit more frightened then others. He stalked past Balin and Dwalin, heading to the back of the smithy were the forge was. The two brothers shared a look, then Balin shook his head. They could ask him later. There was no point in getting Thorin more riled up with his explanation just yet. His temper exploding in the market where they were to work and trade for some time would make a terrible impression.

 

Thorin pulled his hair back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, slipped on his gloves and apron, then grabbed a hammer. Already, they had many requests from the hobbits. Hardly two days in the market and they were all ready quite busy for the foreseeable future. 

 

Such small things they asked for too! Silverware, kitchen knives and hand tools that Thorin could make in his  _sleep!_ A few lasses had inquired about hair clips after seeing the ones Fíli and Kíli wore, offering to pay what Thorin thought was a bit exorbitant. Then again, he had spent plenty of time amongst other dwarves who took so little for their fine crafts when they were forced to live among men; greedy, selfish creatures they were.

 

He didn't understand how the Shire, so green and plentiful, had always managed to be spared from the thieving hands of those who wanted to take it for all its worth and then toss it aside when it was no longer of any use. There were Rangers who protected yes, but only so much could be done with that amount of protection. That the Shire was not a barren wasteland, destroyed and turned into ruins by the hungry eyes of others was nothing short of a miracle.

 

Time passed quickly as Thorin hammered away at a pieces of iron, shaping them all into the basic shape for a hairclip. He preferred to get the easiest things out of the way first, and the accessories were definitely at the top of the list. Most of the hobbits seemed to not care for the dwarven designs that could be put on, and even declined to have something more hobbit like added as well. Just simple, plain clips. Thorin supposed that they wished to gauge his ability, though many were taken just at the sight of the already made items he had Fíli and Kíli set out at their stand. The ones that did ask for embellishment requested only something simple, such as a few flowers. Thorin would've  been more offended if not for the way they seemed to be awestruck by the darn things. Clearly, hobbits knew nothing of dwarven craftsmanship, which was a sad fact indeed!

 

Thorin had completed 8 of them by the time Fíli and Kíli came in, telling him that their work day was over. They jostled each other as Thorin puttered around the room, making sure everything would be all set for the night. He sighed and shot them a glare when Kíli staggered and nearly tripped over an anvil.

 

"Must you two always be so childish?" He snapped. They had the decency to look at least a bit ashamed for being scolded before Fíli spoke again.

 

"Well, Kíli _still_ is a child so--"

 

"I  _am_ not!"

 

As the brothers scuffled, Thorin resisted the urge to hit them both over the head. There were times when he wished he had left them back in Ered Luin with their and mother and father, as bad as it sounded. Besides, Dís hadn't even wanted them to go. It was through Fíli and Kíli's constant bothering, mixed with Víli's reassuring that they were both responsible enough that allowed Thorin and Dís to let the boys go. They knew of the dangers that could accompany them in their trip to Erebor, and accepted that anything could happen.

 

And just because anything  _could_  happen, doesn't mean Thorin was going to let it.

 

"Enough!" Thorin grabbed them both by the backs of their tunics and held them tightly. "The forge is not a place for your horseplay! Do you realize how simple it would be for either of you to get hurt?  _Do you?"_

 

Fíli looked as though he wanted to object to his uncle's claims, affronted that he was being treated as a child despite having came to age over 20 years ago. Kíli simply stared at the floor, shoulders slumped. They never meant anything by it when they messed around, and Thorin knew that, but he'd be dammed if he let anything happen to them on his watch.

 

"Your mother and father would have my head if I were to let anything happen to either of you. Do you understand?" He said, voice going soft. He didn't like yelling anymore than they did, but sometimes the situation asked for it. Fíli and Kíli knew that his day had been anything but  _good_ , and had mostly likely expected these repercussions from getting on his already frayed nerves.

 

They both nodded solemnly, then a smirk pulled at Kíli's mouth in the next instant.

 

"Actually, just _Amad_ would be the one to have your head. _Adad_ would bury your body." He told Thorin, the smirk turning into a full fledged grin. Fíli chortled beside his brother and Thorin simply shook his head.

 

Mahal save him from his nephews. 

 

* * *

 

Thorin found that he had no appetite as Bombur cooked dinner, the rotund dwarf sitting in front of the fire, stirring at a soup that would've smelled heavenly any other day, yet assaulted Thorin's senses tonight. He scowled and scrunched his nose at the offending smell of the food.

 

Balin began to approach him, making Thorin sigh. He knew that both Balin and Dwalin had seen him when he'd come back from  _that_  hobbit's house earlier, no doubt gauging his anger quite effectively. Thorin knew that he would've had to talk to one of them before they retired to bed, but that didn't mean he dreaded it any less.

 

Balin sat down on the log besides Thorin and held out a bowl of soup. When Thorin turned up his nose at it, he sighed.

 

"Will you tell me what had you in such a fit earlier?"

 

"It was not a  _fit."_ Thorin growled, scowling further. Though talking with Balin prevented Thorin from being immersed in Dwalins's sarcasm, the older dwarf never stopped talking to Thorin as if he were a dwarfling. It was highly tedious, and absolutely  _annoying._

 

"You came back with a temper to rival a dragon's, and no less rich if the look of your coin purse is telling." Thorin glared at him as his hand travelled to the purse tied to his belt. "Pardon me for saying, but the hobbit who employed you didn't seem the type to be rude  _or_  rob you."

 

"Well you're wrong!" Thorin snapped, crossing his arms. "That  _halfling_  was a devious creature and was utterly rude."

 

"What did he say?" Balin asked, his greying eyebrows raising. Thorin stared at him for a second, studying his face before replying.

 

"He...offered me food and drink."

 

"Ah, I see." Balin said. "Yes, offering food and drink to pay for a service is extremely rude. We might as well do the Shire a favour and run him out for such an offense."

 

Thorin glared fiercely at him and huffed out an angry breath. No, Balin had plenty of sarcasm too. His just had that dammed condescending tone with it.

 

"You were not there."

 

"True, true." Balin replied. "I do know you enough to figure out that what he thought was good hospitality was instead taken as an act of pity."

 

"They are all the same." Thorin said lowly, his hands closing into fists. When he had brought his family from Erebor to Ered Luin, he had seen the look on the faces of men, their eyes looking down upon them with sympathy, but never providing any. He had not needed their apathy, just a place to work and rest.

 

"Thorin," Balin began, but was cut off when Thorin stood sharply. The younger dwarf stalked off towards the woods, shoulders hunched with tension. He ignored the words of his friend as he went further into the trees, pace slowly increasing. He stopped when the glow from the campfire could no longer be seen and his breathing and foot falls were all he had for company.

 

He could never understand how Balin had been willing to accept the charity of others, not when he had been so self reliant while they were in Erebor. While Thorin refused to grovel at the feet of another being in order to get just a bit of money or food, Balin did it with minimal hesitation. They'd fought about it many times before, and yet Thorin still did not see any real reason to the other's argument. Begging for resources was not a necessity, it was only demeaning and he was determined to never let another of his family do it again.

 

It took about half an hour before Thorin heard approaching footsteps. The footfalls came in pairs and stuttered and jolted along the way as they came nearer. He heaved a sigh as his nephews pushed each other in front of Thorin, their mischievous grins in place as always. Kíli straightened up and waved his fingers.

 

"Balin told us to find you before you sulk yourself right into the jaws of a wolf."

 

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. "There are no wolves here, Kíli."

 

"Yeah, well, before you sulk yourself into an early grave then." Fíli said, and help up his hands at his uncle's fearsome glare. "A form of his words, not mine."

 

Fíli and Kíli went and sat down on the grass on either side of their uncle, leaning against him slightly. Thorin was reminded of the two of them when they were younger, always crowded up against him in the colder months because he was  _'like a furnace, but without the wings because then you would just be a dragon!'_. The thought drew a miniscule smile from him and Kíli shuffled closer. Maybe he just needed time to calm down.

 

"So, we heard that you and Mister Boggins had a fight."

 

Ah. Perhaps not.

 

Despite Thorin's expression falling and being replaced by a scowl once again, Kíli continued on, with Fíli joining in.

 

"He was awfully skittish, maybe you scared him!"

 

"Yeah, Mister Boggins couldn't have been  _that_ bad. Normally, people get angry and shout when we tease 'em like that."

 

"Yeah! Uncle, what happened? Why are you getting up? Wait!"

 

The pair trailed after their uncle, speech garbled as they talked over one another. Thorin gave them heaps of dirty looks, which only seemed to strengthen their resolve to continue annoying him.

 

"Balin said that he offered you food after you worked? What's wrong with that?" Fíli said.

 

"That's how hobbits pay sometimes! I saw tons doing it at the market." Kíli exclaimed, stumbling when Thorin finally stopped. He turned sharply to his nephew.

 

"What?"

 

Kíli pushed some hair out of his eyes. "Well, you know how back home they use crafts to pay for stuff instead of money? Hobbits do that too, but with food."

 

"We saw a man helping a lady with a clock, and when he was all done she invited him right in for a meal, all debt paid." Fíli continued. "Hobbits really like their food apparently, the same way we like our crafts."

 

Thorin could feel his stomach drop as how he had acted set in. Had he really called a hobbit annoying for following what was obviously an essential part of his culture? Bilbo had been under the impression that Thorin didn't accept money, but that he perhaps accepted food and drink as hobbits did. He hadn't been pitying him, he'd simply been trying a different approach.

 

Oh, he was fortune's fool indeed! After the way he had acted, he couldn't just apologize.  _It would be better for him to think that the whole company was_ _turned_ _against him,_ Thorin thought.  _Then_ _he'd_ _just stay away and_ _I'd_ _never have to think about this again._

 

 

He followed his nephews back to camp, telling the rest of the company that they had a busy day ahead of them and that rest would be a wise thing to indulge in. Balin didn't say anything to him, and neither did anyone else, but Thorin had no doubts that the story of what had happened had already spread amongst them by now. For a group of grown male dwarves, they gossiped with terrible frequently.

 

* * *

 

The next day brought no show of Bilbo Baggins, and for that, Thorin was glad. He knew that he had acted...not as good as he should've, but he was  _not_ going to apologize to a hobbit because of it. He had been very stubborn and pushy, and refused to recognize Thorin's kindness in making the repair free. He had wronged Thorin just as much as Thorin had wronged him. There was nothing to do in this situation.

Thorin laid down his hammer as he wiped at his brow, the beads of sweat being cleaned off by the rag in his hands. He'd continued to make the hairclips and was now nearly done with them all, the iron simply waiting to be polished before being distributed back out to their buyers. Even for such small, simple pieces, Thorin took great care and pride in his work. All dwarves were similar in that aspect, as many dedicated their lives solely to their craft. Thorin's family had always held family and love above that, though it took a very close second. Some of his cousins had never looked for someone they might fall in love with, let alone marry, so immersed in their craft they were.

 

He would be slow to admit it, but Thorin had always been fascinated by the idea of Ones. As a young dwarfling, his father had told him with such a quiet, wonderful look on his face how when he had met his mother, she had  _hated_  him. As if it were something that made him happy! Thorin had asked why Thraín continued to try and court his mother if she had hated him so, and Thraín would only admit with a laugh that her refusals made him want to try harder to win her heart, first through friendship, rather than jumping right onto something romantic intent, even if it was underlying cause for action. Slowly, but surely, they became closer and closer friends, until one day Thraín asked to court her again and finally got the acceptance he had wished for. 

  
Thorin couldn't imagine ever hating, or even disliking his One past what might come with typical friendly intolerance at times. When Dís had met Víli, she confided in him, saying that it was like an arrow right to her heart. The world had seemed to stop, and she knew, just  _knew_ that he was the only dwarf she would marry and spend her life with. Their relationship flourished of course, and within a year they had married. Thorin looked at the two of them sometimes, and wondered if he would ever have what they did. He looked at their little family unit of four, and wondered if he might meet his One, whomever they may be, and be able to make his own family with them. 

 

Thorin sighed and cleared his head of such a fantasy. He'd been thinking of it so often now; perhaps he was just homesick and wished to see everyone again. Never one to experience much romantic attraction towards anyone, Thorin knew that he might be one of the dwarves who didn't have a One. It never did any good to long for what one could never have.

 

He stepped out into the front of the smithy, giving a nod to Balin as he stepped outside. It was much cooler, even in the middle of August. The Shire seemed to have very mild weather, with pleasantly hot summers and only chilly winters. It wasn't like Ered Luin, or Erebor for that matter, where the summers came with storms and sweltering bursts before fading back into a long, frigid winter. The weather would be starting to take a cold turn if he were back in the mountains now, and even if he was away from the rest of his family, it was a welcome break from the sporadic climate of his home.

 

There were quite a few hobbits at his company's stands, the small folk chattering and fussing at their visitors. Dwarves and Hobbits had always gotten along well, after all they were the ones to be lumped into the general group of  _short_  by the other inhabits of Middle Earth. As Thorin stepped down the small set of stairs and approached the stand his nephews watched over, a head of familiar copper curls caught his attention and in an instant, Thorin felt his embarrassment and irritation rearing up again. He watched as Bilbo laughed along with Fíli and Kíli, his face alight with mirth. Thorin found himself out of breath so suddenly and coughed sharply, hand coming up to lay against his chest. What an odd feeling he had just had...

 

When Bilbo pointed over and shrugged a bit, Thorin made up his mind to confront him. He came up behind Fíli and Kíli, grabbing their shoulders as Bilbo walked from the stand, moving to Bifur and Bofur's instead.

 

"Uncle!" Kíli cheered, grinning wildly. He pointed at Bilbo eagerly. "Look, Mister Boggins is here! You can apologize to him about yesterday."

 

"Why is he here?" Thorin questioned, giving his nephews dangerous looks. The brothers glanced at each other before shrugging a bit.

 

"Well, he wanted to know about how we did business..." Fíli told him. "Whether or not we each kept what our stand made, or if it was all gathered up and split."

 

"If you told him, I  _swear to_ _Mahal_ _\--"_

 

"What's the harm in it?" Kíli asked. "Mister Boggins told us that he owns a vineyard, so we thought he just wanted to talk with some...  _fellow_ businessmen!"

 

"Neither of you are businessmen." Thorin snapped as he scowled at them. He moved from their stand and slipped past the Ri brothers, frown firmly in place as he approached Bilbo. He came to stand beside Bofur who sensing the tension that flowed off of Thorin, didn't say anything to announce his presence. Thorin stood there and waited for Bilbo to look up and get terribly embarrassed and then leave.

 

However, he just  _wouldn't_  look up! His expression was concentrated, yet calm, even happy as he gazed down at the wooden toy in his hands, a simple wooden figure of a dwarvish warrior. He slowly turned the toy around in his hands, lips parted slightly as his bright eyes studied the carved features and minute details and it was a sight so impossibly...

 

 _Impossibly what?_  Thorin thought as he felt his scowl slipping, yet did not fix it.  _What had I been about to say?_

 

"Mister Bofur, how much would you like for this?" Bilbo looked up with a smile, but it quickly faded when he saw Thorin standing there. Color rose high on his cheeks and his grip tightened on the toy.

 

"Why are you here?" Thorin questioned, voice low and retaining its snappish tone from before. Bilbo huffed and brought himself up to his full height, which wasn't really all that much, Thorin noticed.

 

"Pardon me, but last I checked the Shire is my home, and I'll gk wherever I want, thank you very much!" Bilbo pointed his finger in Thorin's chest and pushed him back with it. The dwarf scowled and crossed his arms.

 

"You did not need to come to our stands." He growled.

 

"That's for me to decide, isn't it?" Bilbo turned his attention from Thorin to Bofur and gathered a few more toys in his hands. "I'd like to buy these." He shot Thorin a look at that before looking at the toys. "You see, I have a few young cousins who have been begging me to go see you lot and pick up something."

 

"They'll get good use out of 'em." Bofur said hesitantly. He didn't want to interrupt...whatever this was, but there was no way he was going to let it swindle him out of a fine toy sale!

 

"Wonderful!" Bilbo said brightly, smiling again. Thorin felt something heavy settle in his stomach as he watched the hobbit smile at his friend and look at the toys so fondly. Bofur hadn't believed what he heard about this hobbit making Thorin's temper so thin or that he had been a pitying creature. Thorin glared at his semi oblivious friend. It felt like betrayal if you asked Thorin.

 

When Bofur told Bilbo the price for the toys, the hobbit shook his head and Thorin waited for Bofur to be put in the same situation as he had been yesterday.

 

"Oh, that is too little! These are wonderful creations Mister Bofur, I'd feel terrible if I didn't give you more." Bilbo said, looking at the dwarf earnestly. Bofur paused and seemed to  _consider_  it, much to Thorin's chagrin. It was betrayal at its source!

 

"Well, alright. How much were you thinkin'? I'd prefer not to rob you."  They both laughed at that and Thorin could feel his face heat and his hands curl into fists. How did Bofur manage to win this hobbit over so easily? By the look of it, why was he letting  _himself_  be won over as well?

 

Bilbo told him the price and Bofur whistled. "You'd think I'd be carvin' it out of gold! It's a bit steep, but if it makes you happy go ahead."  The grin that grew on Bilbo's face was filled with delight and Thorin's chest ached at the sight, much to his own confusion. He must be coming down with something, honestly.

 

Bofur put the toys in a small cloth sack and handed it back to Bilbo. He turned back to Thorin and inclined his head. "See, just a simple purchase. I'm not scheming to run you out of the Shire, if that's what you were thinking."

 

The snicker that erupted from Bofur was quickly hushed by his hand, earning a glare from Thorin. "I did not think that you were going to run me out of the Shire." Thorin told him lowly. Bilbo frowned and seemed to suppress a sigh.

 

"You have no reason to dislike me. All I did was try to pay for a job well done." Despite the annoyance and irritation he felt when thinking about Bilbo, Thorin felt pride swell at the comment. He knew that Bilbo was not the one at fault in this situation, of course he did! The hobbit was kind, as well as appreciative, and rather cute he supposed.

 

 _Cute?_ Thorin thought _, where on Middle Earth had that came from?!_

 

Thorin hmphed at Bilbo's declaration and watched with a careful eye as he sighed then moved from Bifur and Bofur's stand over to Bombur's, the ginger haired dwarf giving a wary look to his brother before he continued bartering with the hobbits that were already there. Thorin wasn't acknowledged by either Bifur nor Bofur, the two continuing on with their business. They were all friends, having met when Thorin and his family settled in Ered Luin over 80 years ago. Though Thorin was like an unofficial leader of their company, neither would hesitate to communicate their view on Thorin hovering so.

 

 _It is overwhelmingly likely that they just want to see how it is to play out between he and I_ , Thorin thought with a sigh.  _Of course it is._

 

Bombur seemed a bit hesitant to talk to Bilbo when the hobbit reached him, but he continued on in a mannerly fashion. Thorin waited for Bilbo to say something wrong, something that would set the rotund dwarf off and then it would've been  _two_  dwarves he wronged, which should've effectively barred him from visiting again.

 

Unfortunately, that it never happened. Bilbo said something that had Bombur's eyes widening and suddenly he was off chattering excitedly with an equally delighted Bilbo. Thorin ran a hand over his face at the situation.

 

Surely, he couldn't have misjudged Bilbo Baggins  _that_  bad. Yes, he was quick to his temper and a bit hasty, but he wasn't a bad judge of character usually. He'd gotten a rise out of Bilbo very easily. The hobbit couldn't be as mild tempered as he showed himself to be.

 

Despite Thorin's hopes that he hadn't been the only one at fault in the situation between the two of them, as he watched Bilbo talk to Bombur and look at the dwarf with so much interest and obvious kindness, he knew that he had mucked up the situation and blown it rather out of proportion. He didn't know however, why he kept feeling these burst of white hot irritation and anger when Bilbo smiled so eagerly. The hobbit's body practically radiated friendliness, but why did he allow himself to give it so freely? It made Thorin only more and more frustrated until finally he gave up and walked back into the smithy. It was a bit stuffy in the building, but there wasn't as much sunlight on him, which he hoped would help with the headache he was developing. Balin was immersed in a conversation with a hobbit, while the strikes of Dwalin's hammer could be heard from the forge. Thorin ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he watched Bilbo pay for some of the treats Bombur was selling and wave goodbye. He could see Fíli and Kíli wave frantically, which made Bilbo's eyes crinkle with mirth and Thorin's chest constrict and ease at the same time.

 

Truly, he must've been coming down with some type of Shire illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huehuehue get it he's lovesick
> 
> translations:
> 
> amad - mother  
> adad- father
> 
> my beta is the lovely freebbington over on tumblr uwu


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later and several items richer, Bilbo still had no idea why Thorin disliked him so much.

 

That dwarf sure could hold a grudge! And over such a trivial thing too! Hobbits were made of much softer stuff, the only grudges that usually held were by Farmer Maggot, towards the rowdy fauntlings that would go into his fields and take their fill. Even then it wasn't a hateful grudge like Thorin seemed to hold. Poor Farmer Maggot just wanted people to leave his crops alone!

 

The first time he had gone back to the smithy after the incident between Thorin and him, he had expected the dwarves to be giving him all sorts of dirty looks or making rude comments. The only dwarf to do such a thing was, you guessed it, a Mister Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo had arrived at the smithy those two weeks ago with a hope of perhaps being able to talk it out with Thorin and arrange some type of reimbursement, he was captured by Fíli and Kíli yet again.

 

"Mister Boggins!" Kíli cried in relief. "We had thought Uncle scared you off!"

 

"He really is stubborn sometimes, you musn't hold it against him." Fíli said, sighing. Bilbo couldn't help the smile that grew on his face to know that he still had the regards of these two.

 

_But oh, what would Thorin say if he knew that I had stolen his nephews from him,_ Bilbo thought,  _He might just smite me where I stand!_

 

"I'm not angry with him." Bilbo told them, and he meant it. He really wasn't angry, so much as a bit irritated at how he had acted. When Thorin had refused money, Bilbo thought that perhaps they did what hobbits did and paid for things with food. For example, Hamfast was his gardener. Such good friends were they that he refused to take Bilbo's money, saying that it was like robbing him. So, Bilbo instead invited the hobbit in after a day's work for a nice meal and a cup of tea, then sent him home with plenty for his family. The Gamgees may have lived on Bagshot Row, but that didn't mean they were all that wealthy. Bilbo had too much food in his pantry as it was. If he was left alone to eat it, then he would've gotten tremendously fat and he was far too young for that to happen.

 

"Do...do you two know what happened?" Bilbo asked. "You must if you think he scared me off."

 

"We...heard a version of it." Fíli answered and glanced over to his side. Bilbo didn't know who he was looking at, but he had a feeling that dwarves gossiped amongst themselves like a couple of old maids.

 

"Yeah, but we want to hear your story!" Kíli demanded. Bilbo quirked a smile. At least these boys had a fair sense of justice.

 

"I think I offended him somehow." Bilbo said. "He did such a lovely job in my door, and he didn't want any money--"

 

"Wait, he  _refused_  to take your money?" Fíli cut him, eyebrows raised. When Bilbo nodded, he shared an odd look with his brother. Kíli whispered something that made Fíli poorly disguise his laugh with cough before gesturing for Bilbo to continue on.

 

"As I was saying, he didn't want any money," Bilbo continued with a suspicious look to the both of them.  "So I offered him food and drink. Then he got rather harsh and insulted me. Well, I insulted him first and he gave it back but he was still quite mean."

 

Fíli nodded as he stroked his moustache. "Yes, this makes much more sense now. See, Uncle gets a bit touchy with stuff like that. He probably thought you felt bad for him."

 

"I would never!" Bilbo exclaimed. "He did such wonderful work, I just wanted him to receive what he most certainly deserved."

 

"Yeah, but Uncle is pig headed." Kíli said it so casually that Bilbo couldn't contain a snort. The two brothers grinned. "We told him that you hobbits use food and the like the way we use our crafts."

 

"I'm sure he realizes that he overreacted." Fíli told him. "He's probably sorry for it too. But getting an apology out of him is like getting a dragon to stop hoarding gold. Not going to happen."

 

Bilbo sighed and nodded. He was glad to know that it was just a big misunderstanding, but he would've liked at least some type of apology. It wasn't as though he was angry, it was just common courtesy! He still hadn't paid Thorin back either, which he very much wanted to do. An idea popped into the hobbit's head and he looked at the two dwarves curiously.

 

"Did your entire company travel together from the beginning, or did you all meet up along the way?" He asked. Fíli and Kíli beamed, eager to talk about their trip.

 

"Nope, we're all from Ered Luin!" Fíli answered proudly. "See, our trip actually took us to Erebor, and we decided to craft and trade along the way to save money. Uncle and Mister Balin and Mister Dwalin all run a smithy back home with our mum."

 

"The place is  _huge!_ " Kíli exclaimed, face alight with a grin. Bilbo grinned back.

 

"Everyone else is merchants mostly. See, Uncle used to live in Erebor when he was younger, but everyone in his family came to Ered Luin after awhile. They didn't like the King or something there apparently. " Fíli explained. "Only Mister Balin and Mister Dwalin came with them from Erebor. He met everyone else when the family moved and we've all been friends ever since."

 

"How delightful." Bilbo said, his smile growing. If was refreshing to learn that perhaps Thorin had a distaste for him only, and actually had a few friends.

 

"Now, since you all travel together, do you take the sum of what was earned and split it up between you all or do you keep what your stand earns?" Bilbo asked, finally getting to his desired subject. Fíli gave him a curious look and Bilbo refused the urge to shuffle nervously.

 

"Well, we split it up. Since things like Uncle's forging or Bofur's toys usually sell much better than whatever the rest of us got, and since dwarves like Bombur eat a lot more than we do, it's just easier to take everything and split it up when we get home. Keeps things fair, you know? Why do you ask?"

 

"Ah well..." Bilbo wondered if he should perhaps tell them the real reason. It couldn't hurt, could it? "I wanted to pay back your Uncle, but I know he won't let me. So, if I just buy plenty from all of you, Thorin will get his pay indirectly and the rest of you will have a substantial amount of profit." They both stared at Bilbo with a gaping mouth and the hobbit fiddled his fingers nervously. "I'm sorry, is it a bad idea?"

 

"No, it's brilliant actually." Fíli said, his voice a bit awestruck, as if wondering why he hadn't thought of a solution like that before.  

  
"How'd you think of that? It's business at its finest!" Kíli told him. Bilbo smiled.

 

"I run my family's vineyard, believe it or not."

 

Kíli smacked his brother's arm. "So  _that's_ why hobbits have such big feet! Better to stamp on the grapes with!"

 

They all laughed at the absurdity of it, Bilbo's sides hurting. It had been such a long time since he laughed like this, and his spirits were through the roof. Wiping at his wet eyes, Bilbo gestured to Bofur's stand.

 

"I've got cousins who've been begging to visit you all, but their parents won't let them. If I buy toys, it'll be just as good right?"

 

"It's the perfect alternative." Fíli replied.

 

"Yeah, you hobbits need more dwarven craftsmanship around here. Those hair clips Uncle's been working on aren't nearly enough." Kíli added, face still alight with mirth. Bilbo laughed and nodded again as he bid them goodbye, then went over to Bofur's stand. He'd heard the dwarves had their names called several times while talking to Fíli and Kíli, so he had been quite confident in his ability to know their names without being introduced first.

 

* * *

  

Bilbo sighed as he walked down the familiar path to the market once again, headed for the smithy once more. Thorin had been quite icy when he saw Bilbo there that week ago, asking what  _he_  was doing there as if he were the new face in the Shire! Well, that had made Bilbo rather mad and he had snipped right back, which seemed to make the situation only worse. At least when Bilbo went over to Bombur's stand, he was focused enough on their conversation that it made Thorin go back into the smithy.

 

He did feel bad that he resorted to ignoring the dwarf given the fact that he had been having some  _d_ _reams_  as of late that certainly should've made Bilbo the one to hole himself up in a building. However, maybe if he spent enough time with the rest of the company, Thorin would see that Bilbo wasn't all that bad and they could finally move past this mess of a situation.

 

And spent time with the company he did! Some like Ori, Nori and Dori were quieter and less forthcoming than the others, but still nice to talk withm Bilbo had gone to each of the stands already, and was getting along quite well with all of those in the company, minus the leader of course. He always visited Fíli and Kíli first upon arriving at the market, lest they get in a fit and barge in when he was talking to someone. Bifur and Bofur were the two at the toy stand, cheery fellows, even if Bilbo could only speak to the latter in Westron. Bofur had explained that Bifur had been in an accident while mining quite a while back, and that it "made him a bit frazzled in the noggin" by the toymakers words. Bifur was lively enough however, entertaining the fauntlings by playing with them of having Bofur translate what he was saying when he needed to get a word in. Otherwise, he sat back and whittled away at a new toy, steady hands shaping the object with focused eyes. Bilbo was enchanted while he watched him do it once, the wood quickly taking on the shape of a dragon. The details were exquisite, from the scales to the tiny rows of teeth that showed in its open mouth, so well made that it looked as though it might breathe fire at any time. Bofur managed the buying of their goods mostly, seeing as he was the only one who could communicate with the hobbits efficiently. His dimpled smile and happy disposition made him a quick favorite, and a bit of eye candy to some of the younger lasses as well. Bilbo didn't really find Bofur to be all that eyecatching as anything more than a friend, but who was he to judge? He had set his eye on possibly the most heart achingly beautiful dwarf in all of Middle Earth who just happen to detest his presence. Ah, the desires of the heart.

 

He didn't quite consider the other dwarves to be friends just yet, as he wasn't able to really get to know them. He had always heard that dwarves were a secretive race and didn't trust others easily, but he assumed that if they were travelling through Middle Earth, they'd be a bit more open. It wasn't as though they were  _rude_ , but besides Bofur, Fíli and Kíli, none really strayed past anything more than business like politeness. It was just him being ambitious, but he wanted to forge at least the beginnings of a friendship with each of them. He certainly wasn't a dwarf, which would probably make it a little difficult, but if he had already managed to ensnare three out of the thirteen, he could certainly keep at it. It all depended upon how much he sought out the dwarves really. He visited Fíli, Kíli and Bofur the most, so they obviously became fast friends. The Ri brothers were a bit more reclusive and shy, with Nori being an exception of course, so earning their trust would take a lot more effort.

 

Then again, Bilbo was a bit intimidated by them. He didn't  _fear_ them, but when Dwalin carried an axe around on his belt and looked like he uprooted trees for fun, it made Bilbo a little wary of even talking to the dwarf's brother. 

 

However, Balin was friendly and open, and though Dwalin did little much more than nod at him and give the occasional grunt, he had the feeling the dwarf was like that with most strangers. For as little as he saw them, it was understandable that Bilbo could not recognize the familial relations between the two of them at first. Balin was a much calmer, more reserved, and overall less threatening dwarf then his brother, being shorter and older and not looking like he would punch someone if they so much as coughed in his direction. Though they both manned the smithy with Thorin, Balin primarily worked in the front, taking any orders that the hobbits might have. He was a pleasant fellow, obviously quite smart and observant, and well versed in the way of the Shire, which made setting up a commission simple. He took Bilbo's order for new gardening tools with a gleam in his eye, smiling as he asked. "It's about time you came in here! I take it you've become rather fond of dwarvish craft?"

 

"Quite so, between you and I." He confided, making the both of them laugh. Balin was strictly speaking. Bilbo, not so much. 

 

Did dwarvish craft include dwarves themselves?

 

* * *

 

Bilbo was hailed by Fíli and Kíli once more as he walked near the smithy, the brothers' faces lighting up at his appearance.

 

"Mister Boggins! Welcome back!" Kíli called his grin blinding. Bilbo gave him a mock scowl as he went over to their stand.

 

"How many times do I have to say that my name is  _Baggins_ _?_ "

 

"How many times have you said it so far?" Kíli asked.

 

"At least 10." Bilbo replied.

 

"More than that then probably." Fíli cut in, causing the two brothers to break out in a fit of giggles. Bilbo sighed as he repressed a smile.

 

"Just call me Bilbo, then. Honestly, you two are the worst." Fíli and Kíli's grins intensified at this and they elbowed each other playfully.

 

"First name basis! Oh, Uncle is going to--"

 

"He's going to what?" Bilbo asked slowly, eyes narrowing. Oh, was Thorin now going to be angry that Bilbo was getting along so well with his nephews? Was there  _anything_  he could do that wouldn't make that blasted dwarf furious with him?!

 

Kíli quickly shut his mouth, but Fíli continued on. "Oh, he just doesn't really like us to get familiar with people. He says it makes it harder to leave when the time comes. That's all."

 

Bilbo relaxed a little at his words, glad that there wasn't yet another fault against him. Surely, Thorin would hate him for suggesting that the boys call him Bilbo, but at least he was the same way with all strangers.

 

"So, what brings you back to us again today,  _Bilbo?_ " Kíli waggled his eyebrows when he said the hobbit's name, making him laugh. Bilbo grinned.

 

"I wanted to check to see how my tools are coming along. Mister Balin said it would take about a week, but I'm not in a hurry." The brothers nodded as he spoke, eyes dancing with mischief. That seemed to be their natural state, much to Bilbo's exasperation, as he couldn't always tell whether or not they were going to get into trouble.

 

"I'll go check on them for you!" Fíli volunteered, racing off into the smithy before Kíli or Bilbo could get a word in otherwise. The younger dwarf grumbled as he looked at the building.

 

"Maybe I wanted to check on the tools." He pouted, and Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

 

"Why Kíli, that sounds like you're unhappy to be out here with me! You are Thorin's nephew indeed!"

 

"Oh Bilbo, no!" Kíli protested, but Bilbo cut him off with the sweep of his hand.

 

"The wound has already been made! You don't have to lie to me any longer! " Kíli snickered as he leaned over the stand to take Bilbo's hand. The hobbit lifted his nose as he looked at the dwarf, lip trembling as he refused to smile.

 

"How should I ever fix what injury I have caused you, dearest Bilbo? Should I throw myself into the forge? Cut out my tongue? Or," he added hotly. "Would a kiss absolve all that has passed between us?"

 

Bilbo bent his head as he laughed, sides beginning to ache from it. Kíli's grin finally showed through his serious facade and he covered his mouth to hide a grin. "Well, if you insist..." Bilbo replied. He really was quite happy to see that some dwarves joked around like hobbits did. Honestly, the number of times he and his friends from younger years had played out this exact same scene!

 

As Kíli leaned further in to kiss Bilbo's cheek, the hobbit barely smothering his laughter, Thorin's harsh voice broke in.

 

"What in _Mahal's name are you doing?!_ "

 

Bilbo snapped back immediately, but was stuck in place by Kíli's grip on his hand. Kíli shrugged at his uncle as he moved to wrap his arms around Bilbo and hug him. "I'm just giving Bilbo a hug!"

 

"You are supposed to be working your stand, not playing around." He growled, and the look he shot Bilbo was so unreadable that the hobbit sunk back, having every intention is apologize and go back home. Fíli and Kíli both downcast their eyes, the latter pouting at being scolded.

 

"Well,pardon  _me._ " He mumbled, crossing his arms. Bilbo swallowed as he looked around, seeing that none of the other hobbits were paying a lick of attention, and that the dwarves only sent fleeting looks over, Bofur's being the longest as he smiled sympathetically. Thorin caught his look and scowled even more.

 

"You said you wanted to see your tools?" He asked briskly, breaking the tense silence that had begun to descend on them. Bilbo nodded weakly, and stepped back as Thorin moved to push some of the items on his nephews' stand aside. He sighed deeply as he reached into his apron and drew out a trowel and a knife, setting the two down on the stand. Bilbo reached out to pick up the knife, the warm wooden handle fitting nicely in his palm as the shining metal blade reflected the sun. He ran a finger near the edge, being able to feel how sharp it was without actually cutting himself.

 

"This is incredible." He said quietly, gently laying the knife down to replace it with the trowel. The handle had been sanded down already and the wood was soft and smooth beneath his touch. The metal portion was perfectly shaped, coming to a blunt point at the top. It had been polished as well, and Bilbo couldn't help but grin as he looked at them. "They're flawless."

 

Wariness seemed to flicker in Thorin's eyes as he watched Bilbo admire his work. He crossed his arms and gave the hobbit a level look. "I have spent my whole life being a smith, so I would hope they meet some level of expectation."

 

"Oh no, they do! They certainly exceed any level of quality I've ever seen." Thorin's posture seemed to relax ever so slightly the second time around, his stance less rigid and his face a tad more open.

 

"What type of wood is this?" Bilbo asked, running his hands over it. The wood didn't have a red tint to it, so cherry was out of the question, but he thought oak might be too soft. As it turned out, it was the latter, to which Thorin explained his reasoning.

 

"The wood remains soft throughout it's life, so as the tool is used it would begin to mold to your hand and make work easier." He told Bilbo, looking down at the tool with his own sense of satisfaction. They drifted off a tad as a few stray fauntlings wandered over to Fíli and Kíli's stand, the young dwarves taking on the new company with zeal. Bilbo continues to ask Thorin various questions, and he replied cordially, getting quite into the topic once before he remembered that the hobbit knew a substantial amount less than he did.

 

"You like them, then?" He finally asked, seeming to consider Bilbo as he watched the hobbit lay the trowel down and pick up the knife once more. Bilbo nodded.

 

 

"I love them!" He replied, smiling at the dwarf. Thorin's eyes caught his for a moment, and Bilbo's heart began to hammer. While hobbits usually had brown or dark blue eyes, Thorin's own were a whole different breed. They were blue, but such a pale, bright color that Bilbo could forget himself while looking at them and not notice he was staring rather impolitely.

 

"Yes, well," Bilbo cleared his throat as he set the knife down once more. "They look incredible to me, can I buy them now? Unless you have anymore you wish to fix, though I think they're perfect and really can't be any better--"

 

"Fíli and Kíli will handle it. They know how to price my work, and to not ask for too much," Thorin's eyes lit up with a smile, though the rest of his face showed nothing. "Even if the buyer is all too willing to pay it."

 

Thorin walked away right after that, leaving Bilbo to nearly gape. Oh, had he just made a  _joke?_ A smile took over the hobbit's face once more as he turned back to Fíli and Kíli, seeing their faces surprised, but delighted nonetheless. The fauntlings that they had been entertaining seemed ensnared by Thorin and Bilbo's interaction, scrambling to watch the dwarf walk off before turning back to Bilbo with wide eyes.

 

"Bilbo, I dare say that Uncle just apologized to you." Kíli said.

 

"Kíli, I'm going to hold you to that." Bilbo replied, grinning as he and his brother began to decide on a price for the gardening tools.

 

 

* * *

 

A knock sounded on Bilbo's door later that night, heavy and reverberating throughout the smial. Bilbo looked up from his book, wondering who would've come to his door so late. He pushed the blanket he'd been sitting under off his legs and yawned slightly as he padded over into the foyer.

 

"Mister Thorin!"

 

"Ah, good evening Master Baggins." He greeted, mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile. He looked vaguely uncomfortable with standing there on the doorstep, and a quick glance outside showed Hamfast in his front yard, watching the exchange with a suspicious eye. Bilbo shot him an unimpressed look, and the gardener sunk back a little, but still continued to give Thorin a shrewd look.

 

Tutting, Bilbo gave Thorin a smile, albeit a confused one. "Not to sound rude, but um, what brings you here?"

 

Thorin took a deep breath to steady himself, then bowed down low, his hair nearly touching the ground. As he rose again, Thorin gave Bilbo a piercing look. "I apologize to you, Bilbo Baggins, for my past transgressions. My behavior was unacceptable and most rude, and I would be honored if you were to forgive me."

 

"Oh! Oh, of course!" Bilbo exclaimed, scrambling to fix the tie on his dressing gown, suddenly feeling rather exposed. "I had already forgiven you, honestly! It was a misunderstanding on both of our parts, and I wasn't as polite as I should've been, so I'm sorry as well." 

 

"No, it was I who was impolite. You needn't apologize." Thorin said, and Bilbo shook his head.

 

"Forgiveness is a two way street." He said, then smiled. "How about we just forget about this whole mess? You can do me a favour and come over for supper tomorrow, and we'll leave this behind us."

 

"Eating your food would be a favour?" Thorin asked, an eyebrow raised. Bilbo laughed as he nodded.

 

"Of course! How does after 6 o'clock sound?"

 

Thorin nodded and agreement and Bilbo nodded back. They stood there for a moment, silent and at an impasse, which most likely had Hamfast wringing his hands in anticipation of something bad.

 

"I should be getting back to the camp, or I fear there shan't be one." Thorin said finally, making Bilbo raise an eyebrow.

 

"Oh?" He asked, and Thorin looked a tad sheepish.

 

"My nephews and campfires don't mix well." He admitted, and Bilbo snorted before laughing. A small indulgent smile crossed on Thorin's face as he wished Bilbo a good night, then went off down the walkway. Bilbo lingered by the open door for a moment before shutting it with a shaky breath. He leaned against the wood and covered his face, letting out a sharp laugh as his heart hammered and his cheeks heated.

 

Oh, he had it  _bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know nothing about wood really so thorin might be talking bullshit about the handles on those tools oops 
> 
> updates should be a weekly thing after this since i'm finally on summer vacation B)


	4. Chapter 4

Out of the three of them, Thorin was always the brave one.

He was the oldest of course, but that didn't mean he had any standards to live up to besides being a good brother. His parents understood that age didn't equal bravery, and they wouldn't have dreamt of forcing the idea that the oldest always had to be the brave one on him.

Thorin was the brave one nonetheless, out of pure nature and his own accord. When Frerin was the one to fall out a window at age 10 and break his arm, Thorin remained calm despite being only two years older and carried his injured brother back inside, holding a crying Dís's hand with his free one. When they had moved from Erebor to Ered Luin, and their mother had died, he was the one who remained strong for his siblings and father and grieving family. Thorin had cried, but not in front of them. And when Dís had gotten married, he didn't bawl like Frerin did, only holding his over dramatic brother close as they watched Dís start a new chapter in her own life.

Yes, he was the brave one. Even if his brother and sister resented it at times because it made him seem so cold and aloof, he continued on doing so.

Oh, what they would say now if they knew he were nervous to go to  _dinner_ at a  _hobbit's_ _._  

He was only nervous because he didn't want to end up causing another misunderstanding, honestly. Not because he found Bilbo cute, or because he had worried over making that beautiful smile fade into a harsh glare with some dumb comment. No indeed, Thorin just didn't want to cause any more trouble between the two of them.

Oh, he was hopeless. Dwalin even seemed to be catching onto his mild...interest in Bilbo. He had cornered him the previous day after he handed off the tools he'd made to his nephews

"You're hopeless." Dwalin informed him as he used the tongs to take a piece of hot metal out of the fire. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He informed his friend, making Dwalin snort.

"Yeah, and  _you_  didn't use the best wood Bofur had on him to make the handles on those things. Bofur only carries the best wood around anyways. You practically went pedigree." He drawled, making Thorin glare. Damn. So he  _had_  overheard that. 

"You know not of what you speak of." Thorin snipped as he adjusted the tie that held his hair back. The forge's heat made the strands stick to his neck uncomfortably, something that not even tying it up could fix.

"Yeah, well I know you. And nearly biting your own nephew's head off because he went in for a smooch is hardly what you're playing it off to be."

"...It was just a hug." Thorin grumbled, taking off his gloves and putting them on a bench. His palms were sweating as well; why did it always have to be so hot?

Dwalin snorted as he shook his head. "At least you made nice. And a joke too!" The dwarf scoffed. "If you're going in for a humorous approach, I'd stop right there. Your jokes are shit."

"Get back to work." Thorin glared at him, but it did little to faze his lifetime long friend. If there was anyone who wasn't completely and utterly unintimidated of Thorin, it was Dwalin. Leading a group was awfully hard when you're best friend kept sassing you throughout the whole trip.

"Just givin' you some tips." Dwalin said as he raised his gloved hands. "I'm well versed in the ways of wooing."

"You," Thorin countered with a point of his finger. "have been failing miserably at courting Ori, so I don't want to hear it."

"Hey, that's not my fault! His brothers won't let me near him." A devilish grin passed the dwarf's face. "Besides, he already gave me a bead. So, I've succeeded. You've done squat."

"Will you just let it be?" Thorin groaned as he sat down heavily. "I've just barely made peace with Master Baggins, I'd rather not have rumors of that...sort."

Dwalin was quiet for a moment. "If you can't say the actual thing, then I'm just gonna assume you are refusing to face the truth."

"I will hit you. And it  _will_ hurt."

"When you've got an angry scribe comin' to get his revenge for me, you'll regret it."

 

 

* * *

 

His interest really was mild. Mild enough to permit a flare of jealously when Kíli had gone in for that hug (kiss), but nothing more. His nephew and Bilbo were just friends, nothing more. Right?

When he'd gone to formally apologize to Bilbo, leaving behind the whistle from Dwalin, getting invited to dinner wasn't what he expected. Feeling his heart speed up when Bilbo opened the door wasn't either. Most of what he was feeling towards the hobbit was quite unexpected. Maybe that was a sign it would go away as quickly as it had came.

Thorin didn't have a problem with saying that someone was attractive. There was nothing wrong with pointing out the obvious. The obvious thing was that Bilbo Baggins was a different form of attractive then he was used to, round and soft in the places where most dwarves were solid and angular and lacking the normal facial hair. Not that it was a bad thing. He was...cute. Really cute. There, he'd said it. It was nothing more than a mild interest honestly.

Dwalin was the only one giving him any trouble, or even thought on the subject, so Thorin figured that everything was alright. That conclusion didn't help with his slight nervousness at all, much to the dwarf's disappointment. Maybe Oín had some sort of mixture for him to drink that would make him relax? No wait, that was ale.

Bilbo didn't come to the smithy that afternoon, which  _did_  help a bit. Thorin was able to focus on his work without the distraction of hearing his nephews giggle along with the hobbit while Thorin was stuck inside. Not that he was jealous. Him, a grown dwarf, jealous of his two nephews who were scarcely more than adolescents? Preposterous!

Bilbo not appearing did lend him more worries, as much as Thorin loathed to admit it. He fretted that maybe the hobbit had decided against the dinner after all and was hiding to deter Thorin from coming, or maybe he was ill, and couldn't even get out of bed. That thought made Thorin want to abandon the smithy to go check on him, but he rightly decided against it. His interest level was  _mild_ , and those impulses were irrational and born only out of his overprotective nature towards  _f_ _riends._

Hobbits usually retired by four o'clock in the market, since afternoon tea was at that time. When they'd first arrived in the Shire, Thorin was shocked to hear that most hobbits ate up to six meals a day. Six! Where did they even put it?!

So by time the surrounding folk began to close their stands for the day, Thorin tried to guess how long he had until he was to report to Bilbo's. It took up to twenty five minutes to walk back to the company's camp in a nearby forest clearing, and he wanted to wash before he went over, since reeking of sweat and metal wasn't exactly dinner material.

_At least not amongst hobbits,_  Thorin mused.

Dwalin was off screwing around and causing havoc, while Balin was busy with orders, which left Thorin to clean up the forge. Dwalin may have been particular and clean with his work, but the space he used was a far cry from it. Thorin grumbled as he kicked at a discarded piece of metal, sending the material skidding with a clang as it hit the leg of a workbench. If Dwalin couldn't keep a rather tiny forge clean, Thorin didn't know how he ever expected to live with Ori's freakishly neat standards of living. Granted, they would probably ease once Ori stopped living with Dori, who was more of a mother hen than a brother. But those first few months when Dwalin and Ori were finally allowed to live together? Oh, Thorin could  _not_ wait for that fiasco. 

With only him doing it, cleaning up took longer than he expected. Only Fíli and Kíli were waiting for him outside when Thorin finally walked out of the building.

"Uncle, what time are you going over to Bilbo's?" Kíli asked as the three of them began to walk back to camp.

"Six o'clock." Thorin replied. "Why?"

The brothers exchanged a look before Fíli pursed his lips. "Hm, you better hurry up then. It's nearly 5 o'clock already!"

" _What?_ " Thorin groaned as he began to walk faster, not hearing his nephew's snickers. Thorin didn't want to be late, as that was a sign that one was dreading the meal. Which Thorin  _wasn't_. Besides, the food would be cold if he wasn't on time, and cold food wasn't nearly as enjoyable as it was hot. Maybe, if he  _really_  hurried, he could even manage to be a few minutes early. 

Thorin ignored his companions when he reached the camp, only grabbing his pack and heading off the the nearby river. Hobbits apparently couldn't swim and tried to avoid rivers, which made the area where they were camping very unpopular to the Shire folk, and lessened Thorin's apprehension about bathing out in the open. The water was shallow; only coming up to his waist at the deepest part. So he washed quickly, but took care to make sure he got any grime out from under his nails, that his hair wasn't oily from sweating, and that he was presentable. If his mother had taught him anything, it was that you should look good at dinner, no matter whom you dined with.

Thorin took out clean clothes from his pack and dressed as he dried his hair with the tunic he'd worn earlier. It wasn't that hygienic, but he wasn't going to dirty more of his clothes just to dry his hair. Besides, his tunic wasn't that dirty. Just a bit smelly.

As he fixed his braids, heavy footsteps alerted him to Dwalin's presence. Wonderful, just who he wanted to see.

"Why do you wear clean stuff for him, but we have to sit around and smell you everyday? Not fair, not fair at all."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "Please, as if you smell any better. That Ori's nose hasn't shriveled up and fallen off is beyond me."

"He loves my stench. I smell like hard work and bravery. You smell like denial and longing."

"Oh, is that what you're calling it these days? Last I checked you smell worse than an orc's behind." Thorin stood up and shoved his discarded clothes back in his pack before turning around to face his friend. 

"Smellin' orc ass are you? Thorin, I never took you for the type."

Dwalin laughed as Thorin shot a rude gesture at him, following his friend back to the camp. They all usually ate later than hobbits did, so there was usually an hour or two of downtime before anyone was hungry. The company was scattered around the clearing, some talking with each other, others enjoying the warm summer weather while they dozed. Ori was one who was asleep, leaning against the trunk of a tree in the shade. Fíli and Kíli were a few feet off, no doubt scheming to disturb the poor fellow. He gave them both a smack to the head before Dwalin could and set his pack down. Dwalin nudged his back with a sharp elbow.

"Off you go, Thorin. Don't wanna be late for your  _date._ "

"Oh, you're going on a date?" Bofur asked, smiling. "It is with Mister Baggins?"

"No." Thorin snapped. "I mean no, it's not a date."

"Ah, but it is with him!" Nori exclaimed. A groan came from the general direction of Gloín who grumbled as he reached for his coin purse. "Pay up, told you it wouldn't take long!" Nori grinned as he held out his hand.

"You made  _bets_?" Thorin asked incredulously, then shook his head. "Of course you did. I'll deal with that later, I'm going to  _dinner_ , with a  _f_ _riend._  Not a date, not whatever you," Thorin glared at Bifur. "Just said."

The miner turned toy maker shrugged as he grinned. Thorin sighed. He needed new friends. 

A chorus of farewells met Thorin's back as he finally left the camp, wondering how much time he'd wasted attending to his foolish company. As he estimated in his head, he couldn't contain a groan. Oh, he was going to be late. Surely though, Bilbo would understand? The hobbit had forgiven him easily enough before, so he wouldn't hold being 10 minutes overdue against Thorin, right?

Nonetheless, Thorin hurried as he walked back into Hobbiton, ignoring the curious glances he received from various hobbits as he passed them. Of course, he nodded to the men who tipped their hats at him and gave a small smile to the fauntlings who waved at him. The hill upon which Bilbo's house lay came beneath his feet soon enough and he began to walk up the semi steep pathway, heart rate picking up with each step.

There really was no need to be nervous. Even if Thorin did stumble on his words or make some kind of misunderstanding, they could always resolve it again. Besides, Bilbo was friends with nearly everyone in the company, so it wasn't as though they didn't have anything in common. No, this would be easy. Simple, really.

Thorin was knocking on the round green door before he knew it, feeling terribly awkward as he stood outside. No doubt Bilbo's neighbors were staring at him and wondering what in Mahal's name he was up to. They would see that he was invited as soon as Bilbo came and opened the door.

Which he didn't. Thorin knocked again before he heard any movement from inside and wondered if maybe it was Bilbo was had been running a bit behind schedule. It eased his nerves a bit and he exhaled as Bilbo opened the door.

Quite a shame that he had already exhaled, because in that moment Thorin would've appreciated having some air in him.

Bilbo was wearing a faded dark blue apron over his clothes and had flour dusted on the front of it and upon his cheek. Thorin was struck by an urge to reach out and brush it away, which he ignored in favor of clenching his hands. Bilbo seemed confused for a moment, before beginning to gush, which was unfortunately rather cute as well.

"Mister Thorin! Oh dear, what time is it?! It can't nearly be six o'clock, I was sure that I had more time, I am  _so sorry--_ "

Thorin reached out to lightly touch Bilbo's shoulder, stilling the hobbit instantly. He flushed under the contact and pulled at the hem of his apron.

"I take it I'm early then?"

"Yes." Bilbo agreed, then shrugged. "I um, I probably let time get away from me though, so you might be on time. Sorry."

"I can...leave and come back later--" Thorin began, but was cut off as Bilbo shook his head and grabbed Thorin's wrist to pull him inside.

"Oh, none of that. Dinner was nearly finished as it was, so you can just sit tight for a few minutes." Bilbo stopped at the mantelpiece to grab his clock, tapping on the thick glass face. "Darn thing must be broken."

Thorin sighed as things began to add up in his head. "No, no, I am sure that it is working fine. I have a feeling my company played a trick on me. They said I was going to be late, but I never did ask for the actual time." Thorin shrugged. "My apologies."

"Oh." Bilbo said, then smiled. He began to snicker as he put the clock back down and turned to Thorin. "That's rather funny."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "Mahal wept, you're the same as them."

Bilbo waved a hand as he laughed. "They're all very nice, don't make it sound as if it's an insult."

"Hmph." Thorin looked over Bilbo's cooking rumpled appearance again. "Would you like some help?"

"What, with dinner?" Bilbo asked as he led Thorin towards the kitchen. "Oh, you're a guest, you mustn't bother yourself with it!"

"Nonsense." Thorin said. "I am here earlier than you expected. Helping would be the least I could do."

Bilbo smiled at Thorin. "You're not going to let it go are you?"

"No."

Bilbo threw up his hands as he and Thorin walked into the kitchen, grumbling halfheartedly, "Fine! Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves."

Thorin chuckled as he looked around the kitchen, taking the sight of the sheer amount of food Bilbo had already prepared. Along the counter were a few seed cakes, fresh and warm as the delicious smell wafted off of them. A ham was skewered on a spit in front of the small fire, succulent meat letting off such a wonderful scent that Thorin couldn't help but lick his lips. On the table sat plates for the both of them, along with a hearty salad with tomatoes and boiled eggs, and a plate of crisp, warm bread, already sliced to expose the soft white interior.

"Mister Thorin? Is something wrong?" Bilbo asked, snapping Thorin from his food induced awe.

"Ah, no. You...made a lot of food." He commented lamely, making Bilbo snort and giggle. Thorin gave him a withering look, only making the hobbit's smile grow.

"Bofur told me that dwarves only eat three times a day, so I figured that you were starving by now."

Thorin frowned slightly as he nodded, mind going to the subject of Bofur. He and Bilbo seemed to get along quite spectacularly, which wasn't odd for someone like the easy going toymaker, but this seemed...different. He and Bilbo weren't... no, they couldn't! Could they?

"Oh, um, if you want to help, you could take the ham off the spit for me. Just put it on here." Bilbo set a large platter nearby as he smiled, oblivious to Thorin's internal freak out. The dwarf nodded and moved to grab the two ends up the iron spit, only to be grabbed by Bilbo.

"Um, ah here." Thorin looked down at the pot holders Bilbo was holding out to him with one hand, the other now lightly on his bicep. "It'll be hot, I'd hate for you to burn yourself."

"Thank you." Thorin took them from Bilbo's hands and their fingers brushed, making Thorin swallow heavily. Bilbo moved away again, hand seeming to linger on his arm. Thorin put it down as Bilbo simply fretting over whether or not he would burn himself and moved once more to pick up the slit, warm iron light in his hands, even with an entire ham skewered on it. Bilbo began to hum a cheery tune as he busied himself with arranging the dishes and plates of food on the table. Thorin glanced over his shoulder at him as he placed the ham on the platter, hands faltering in their movements to remove the spit. Bilbo had his back to him as he swayed slightly along with his humming, arms reaching out as he moved plates and shirt stretching tight over the muscles in his back. He was slighter than Thorin was, and his muscles weren't as developed, but being able to see the firm lines of his shoulder blades and the way his bare calves flexed as he reached across the table assured Thorin quite well that the dwarven standards of beauty did not apply to Bilbo Baggins and that he didn't mind that one bit. 

Thorin turned back around and pulled the two forks from the sides of the ham and set them off from the side, then removed the spit rod, setting it back down on its holder. Bilbo darted in and grabbed the ham while Thorin was setting the rod back down and gave him a smile as he set it in the middle of the table, the platter fitting perfectly in the spot he had made for it. The hobbit stood back and admired his work for a moment before wiping his hands on the front of his apron.

"I'll um, I'll be right back. Just have to wash up a bit." Bilbo gestured at the table. You're free to sit and start eating if you'd like." Bilbo stilled as if he wanted to say something more, then quickly turned and scurried off to the bathroom.

Thorin stood there alone, at a loss for what to do. It was rude to start eating before your host, even if they gave you permission. Unless hobbits did it differently? Thorin did want to cause another disagreement between them, but he was just going to begrudge dwarvish manners.

Well, he  _could_  bend them a bit.

Thorin took one look at the salad and grimaced, but moved to serve himself some anyways. Dwarves rarely ate the stuff, but he supposed that by picking something light it would give the impression of saving room for the main course. Was there a main course? Or was it all just there for the taking, completely disregarding anything of the sort? Was this even the final meal in a hobbit's day?

Thorin sat down heavily when he heard Bilbo approaching and busied himself with the salad. Even with the green being put off by the hard boiled eggs cut up in it and the red ripeness of the tomatoes, it was still quite offputting.

But a dwarf had to do what he had to do!

Bilbo returned without his dirty apron on and looking a bit more neat, not that Thorin was inspecting. He did happen to notice that Bilbo wore a dark brown trousers that came to a bit below his knees, a yellow patterned waistcoat and a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the top, only to have a cravat tied and tucked in, covering the would be exposed skin once more. He gathered it all from a quick glance, honestly.

"Thank you so much, Mister Thorin. You've been such a big help." Bilbo said as he took his own seat with a grateful smile. Thorin nodded at him and speared another leaf with his fork, trying to mask the disdain he had for it. It would be rude to openly talk against whatever your host prepared, but Thorin had technically chosen to put this on his plate. He really should've gone for the ham.

"I showed up early, so it was only fit that I helped you through the inconvenience I caused." Bilbo nodded and took a swift drink, the tankard large and nearly covering half his face. Thorin looked to his side and saw a filled tankard as well, then picked up the cup and gave it a curious smell.

"Is this ale?" He asked, watching as Bilbo set his down. He licked his lips after the drink, skin slightly wet from the ale and Thorin quickly averted his eyes back to his own cup to seem polite.

"Yes, it is." Bilbo replied, then looked worried. "Oh, I didn't even ask if you wanted it! Usually I have ale at dinner and I didn't even  _think_ if--"

"It is fine." Thorin said, reaching out to lightly touch Bilbo's arm and still him. The hobbit nodded a bit and reached out to put some salad on his plate as well, eating the dish with far more willingness than Thorin. The dwarf took one more whiff of his drink before finally trying it. Immediately, the full bodied, sweet taste washed over him and Thorin nearly coughed, surprised at how much he liked it.

"This is wonderful." He said to Bilbo, still looking in the cup of the delicious substance. Bilbo smiled at that, setting down his fork.

"That's my neighbor Hamfast's best brew. Does dwarvish ale taste different?"

"It is more bitter than this. We have different types of course, but none as sweet as this."

"Well, we hobbits like our things sweet." Bilbo chuckled, and Thorin couldn't help the small smile that grew on his face.

_"You must like yourself then,"_ Thorin thought, followed by,  _"_ _Mahal_ _above, what is wrong with me?!"_

"What is it like travelling around, being a merchant?" Bilbo asked as he began to reach out to bring more food onto his plate. He seemingly grabbed at random, taking what he liked and disregarding any sort of order. Thorin breathed out in relief at not having to finish his salad and followed suit, grabbing pieces of bread and two of the small meat pies. He took a bite of the bread and chewed it thoughtfully, thinking of what to say.

"It is nearly the same as being in my smithy in Ered Luin, work wise. Travelling is...travelling I suppose." Thorin shrugged. "You meet people, and not many stay in your mind."

"Fíli and Kíli said you and everyone went to Erebor?" Bilbo asked, popping a small piece of cheese in his mouth as he reached for the carving knife for the ham. "What is it like there?"

"Beautiful." Thorin replied immediately, then stopped. "It is hard to explain, since dwarven architecture is notably different then hobbits'. Erebor was built right out of the Lonely Mountain, and it's pride is found in detailed stone carvings and statues. Nothing like the roundness of your home."

Bilbo nodded intently, cutting off a thick slice of the ham and putting it on his own plate. "It sounds wonderful, I wish I could see it."

"The road to Erebor is long and dangerous," Thorin said sharply, alarmed at the idea of Bilbo even thinking about going there. "Orc populations have increased in recent years, it is wonder that my company and I made it though and back with what little scuffs we received."

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated, his eyes widening. Thorin nodded.

"Detesting, horrible creatures. We ran into more than one group on our travels and had to take care of them." Thorin grimaced and cut himself a slice of ham. "Pray you never have to encounter them."

"My, that sounds awful." Bilbo took and piece of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. "Are they difficult to fight?"

"Pardon?" Thorin asked, pausing in taking a bite of his ham. Why would Bilbo want to know that?"

"Are they difficult to fight? I haven't travelled since I was younger, and I'd rather like to again. In case I would ever run into some, I'd like to to know how hard it is to handle them."

"Orcs are not to be trifled with." Thorin said gravely. "They are ruthless pillagers who find love in chaos and death. Even Dwalin was not immune to their blades."

"He was hurt?" Bilbo asked quickly, worry evident in his voice.

"Months ago." Thorin hastened to answer. "But it shows that even those who seem strong can be hurt by their dark blades. If you were to ever encounter an orc pack, I fear that you would not make it out alive."

They both fell silent, Bilbo still munching on his bread and Thorin feeling as though he had just spectacularly ruined the dinner. He took a bite of his ham, then a sip of his ale and spoke again.

"You said you had travelled before?" He asked, and Bilbo looked up sharply.

"Oh, um yes. With my parents when I was younger. I think the farthest we ever went was Rivendell."

"Rivendell?" Thorin asked. "Is that not an elven realm?"

"Oh yes," said Bilbo. "Lord Elrond rules it. Rivendell is a lovely place, really. From what I can remember, it was bright and beautiful and had plenty of hiding spots for a rowdy fauntling like I was." Bilbo laughed. "There was not any other children there, but I do remember Lord Elrond's sons playing with me a few times."

"I did not know that hobbits and elves had such good relations." Thorin said briskly, a bit ticked by the way Bilbo went on about them. Elves were self righteous, poncy creatures. It was a shame Bilbo had not known dwarves when he was younger, for then he would see that they were a far more superior race.

"We're really not." Bilbo admitted, making Thorin raise an eyebrow. "I doubt elves are even all that aware of our presence. Hobbits aren't the travelling type, so I can say that I'm the only one in all of the Shire to have made it farther than Bree."

"You do not seem to be short on willpower, so I do not doubt that any determined hobbit could make it as far as they pleased." Thorin commented, making Bilbo laugh brightly. The dwarf smirked in self satisfaction. Hmph, and Dwalin said humor wasn't one of his strong suits.

"I am glad to hear that! The food had gone a bit cold we've talked so much." Bilbo laughed again and offered Thorin another slice of ham, which he took with thanks.

Dinner faded into supper, the hours passing with ease. Thorin had expected for the meals to be a tense, awkward thing, but instead found himself smiling, and even laughing occasionally. They ended up talking about Thorin's work as a blacksmith once more and moved onto the topic of the company.

"Fíli and Kíli are just like my younger cousins, they're exhausting." Thorin chuckled and nodded.

"This trip has been hell with them on it. They're very helpful, but as you said, exhausting." Bilbo grinned and laughed again, the sound delightful to Thorin.

"Everyone is truly delightful. I haven't been to the market this often ever I do believe. Your crafts are all so useful."

"Do you have a preferred craft?" Thorin asked curiously. Bilbo gave him a wry look.

"Mister Thorin, are you trying to get me in trouble with your fellow dwarves? Trying to throw me under the horse's hooves?"

"You needn't say 'Mister', just Thorin is fine." The dwarf remarked. "And I would not dream of it. I'm simply curious."

"If I'm calling you Thorin, then call me Bilbo. None of that Master Baggins rubbish." Bilbo made an indigent noise that had Thorin chuckling once more. Bilbo grinned. "I can't say I have a favorite, no. I have spent the most as Mister Bofur and Mister Bifur's stand, but that's because my cousins like to swindle my money out of my coin purse and make me buy toys for them."

Thorin was most certainly not jealous of Bofur and the way Bilbo flocked to his stand, and the flash of relief at hearing that he only went there as often as he did because of his younger cousins did not occur. Bofur was his friend, he hadn't been even slightly wary of the interest the hobbit took in him.

"I do really like the Ri brothers' stands however. Ori's artwork is astonishing," Bilbo said. "The lad is so shy though, I thought he would faint the last time I complimented his work!"

"His brothers are quite protective of him, so it has led to him being wary of strangers." Thorin told him. "He's warms up to people easily though, so I would not worry."

"That's good," Bilbo agreed. "Oín and Gloín have been great helps as well. I've always been well versed in minor medical things, since hobbits can be clumsy sometimes. The books Oín sold me were wonderful, they're so informative." Bilbo propped his chin up in his palm. "And Gloín has much to say about his wife and son."

Thorin smiled now as he nodded, a full, booming laugh escaping his mouth. "You should be grateful not to be part of our company. We know his wife and son personally, and he still goes on and on about them at any chance."

Bilbo smiled. "I'm sure he misses them terribly. How long has your trip been?"

Thorin paused to think. "Nearly a year and a half by now." He finally answered, soaking in how long it had been since he'd truly been home. Bilbo let out a low whistle.

"By the Valar, that's an awfully long time. I can't blame Gloín for being so willing to talk about his family." Bilbo shook his head. "Even with Fíli and Kíli by your side, I'm sure you miss the rest of your family as well."

"Not really." Thorin replied and he smiled as Bilbo laughed.

"Now that's a terrible thing to say! What would they say if they knew you had said that?"

"My sister would take her sons back and ignore me and my brother would put on a display of hysterics." At Bilbo's disbelieving snort Thorin gave him a grave look. "If you think I am joking, you are completely wrong. My siblings are vicious creatures."

Bilbo laughed. "Yes, yes, alright, I shall take your word for it. Now, would you like dessert?"

Later, Thorin would wonder how Bilbo managed to eat so much in the span of four hours and the matter of  _where_  it all went would confuse him endlessly, but for now he set aside that thought and gladly tucked into a warm apple pie with Bilbo. Thorin managed only three slices of the scrumptious, sweet dessert before he was forced to sit back and let his meal digest, while Bilbo continued on with a fourth, then half of a fifth slice. Of all the races Thorin had ever met, hobbits were by far the most peculiar.

Not to say that being peculiar was bad, because in the case of Bilbo Baggins it was good. Very good in fact.  Thorin didn't mind this type of peculiar one bit.

Eventually, the sky grew black and only the moon, stars and lamps outside of the smials provided light. Thorin had helped Bilbo wash the dishes they had used, cleaning them while Bilbo dried and put them away. The hobbit had been quite adverse to the idea at first, saying that Thorin was a guest and that it would be impolite to make him help. A  _small_  lie about how it was common courtesy in dwarf societies to help your host with the washing after a meal quickly changed Bilbo's mind, and Thorin was able to go about helping once more.

As they sat in the kitchen, Thorin smoking along with Bilbo on a spare pipe the hobbit had, a knock came to the door. Bilbo rose with a furrowed brow.

"Now who could that be?" He mumbled around his pipe, leaving the room to fetch the door. Thorin inhaled the sweet smoke of the pipe weed Bilbo had given him, the new taste much more delicate and enjoyable then what he had smoked on the road. Bilbo exclaimed something that Thorin could not make out, followed by a two voiced reply. Oh.  _Oh._

"There he is!" Kíli exclaimed as Thorin entered the foyer, borrowed pipe held loosely in his hand. His nephews waved cheerfully, and the grin on Bilbo's face was nearly blinding. Thorin gave them a scrutinizing look.

"What are you two doing here?"

"We came to escort you back." Fíli said as Kíli leaned into Bilbo and whispered shrewdly, "He's just  _awful_  with directions. He'd no doubt get lost in the dark, trust me."

Bilbo stifled a laugh and Thorin gave his nephews a fearsome glare, to which they didn't react. Thorin resisted the urge to sigh. His nephews no longer feared him. He would have to change his tactics.

"Say Bilbo, what'cha cooking?" Kíli asked, sniffing the air curiously. Fíli nodded.

"Smells like apples."

Bilbo laughed and smiled at them, making Thorin's heart rate pick up. "It's apple pie. There's still some left, would you like to take it?"

" _Yes!"_ They answered simultaneously, faces lighting up. Thorin rolled his eyes. With the way they acted, you'd think he didn't feed them. Bilbo laughed again.

"I'll go get it then. Thorin, would you like me to dump the pipe for you?" The dwarf nodded and handed it off to Bilbo, who walked out of the room and left Fíli and Kíli to descend upon their uncle.

"Oooo, smoking a pipe with him? Uncle, you sly dog."

"He's calling you Thorin! Do you call him Bilbo too? Or does he have a pet name already?"

"Did you two  _enjoy_  the apple pie?"

"Is it really apple pie, Uncle? Or is that Shire talk for-"

"Enough!" Thorin grabbed their heads and knocked them together; not enough to hurt of course, but enough to get his point across. "I ought to box your ears like the pair of naughty dwaflings you are!"

"I'm 72! Kee's the dwarfling!"

"Hey!" The brothers yanked at each other's hair, and Thorin sighed. Dís might be their mother, but did they  _have_  to act as troublesome as she did?

"Oh, now you're getting mud all over the floor!" Bilbo tsked as he came back in, the slices of pie wrapped carefully in cloth and set in a small basket. He frowned at the two brothers, whom hastened to straighten themselves out.

"I go off to get you dessert, and you track mud all over! What kind of treatment is that?"  He scolded. Kíli looked at the pie, then to his brother, and moved to sweep the dirt his books had tracked in into his hand, then threw it out the open door. Fíli did the same, and Thorin gave an impressed look to a satisfied looking Bilbo.

"Nicely done. They'll do anything for a slice of pie." He said quietly, a smile working its way onto his face. Bilbo smiled back. 

"My pie can get anything it needs to accomplished."

"I shall not doubt that ever again."

Thorin chuckled when Bilbo grinned, then turned back to his pie hungry nephews. "Off with you rascals then, let's go."

Bilbo followed them to the door where he handed the basket off to Kíli, who promptly tried to hog it from his brother. Bilbo leaned slightly on the doorway, watching the sibling scuffle before his gaze switched to Thorin.

"Dinner was delicious. As was supper and dessert." He said, and Bilbo laughed again, obviously amused by Thorin being unused to hobbit meal schedules.

"It was my pleasure, truly. If you, or any one in the company is hungry, do stop by. I have plenty of food as it is." Thorin gave him a measuring look.

"You know not of the appetite of a group of dwarves."

"Well, you didn't know much about the appetite of a single hobbit either, did you? I daresay I ate a great deal more than you did." Thorin scoffed, before smiling softly.

"Goodnight Bilbo, I shall tell my friends of your offer. Be prepared for them to take you up on it."

"I will, I will." The hobbit replied, then added quietly, "Goodnight, Thorin."

The door closed as Thorin went off down the path, catching up to Fíli and Kíli who stood at the bottom feasting on the pie. They smirked as Thorin walked up to them, but quickly stopped when he gave them a wide, toothy grin.

"Now, how much did Dwalin pay you to make me early for dinner?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i added dwalin/ori because i'm a big sap for the two of them and because they'll play a role later on
> 
> also, when i first wrote the line "I daresay I ate a great deal more than you did." i actually wrote "I daresay I ate you out." and we all know why that line wasn't going to work


	5. Chapter 5

There was an old Shire saying that one should never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who has grown fond of your smile.

Bilbo had always thought it to be a rubbish saying; people should be able to frown whenever they please to. But as he mulled over the dinner he had shared with Thorin that night, lying in his warm bed with the hobbit hole still smelling deliciously of his cooking and pipe weed, he found himself remembering the saying and for the first time, agreeing with it. Thorin had a dazzling, brilliant smile, and the proverb was right. When he thought back to the glares Thorin had given him at first, he found that he had grown very fond of the dwarf's smile, and hoped as he drifted off to sleep, to be able to see it often.

But as Bilbo knew, things often seemed much simpler, much better in the few minutes before one fell asleep. The troubles lurking in your mind didn't come forward, staying at bay until the next morning when one awoke and laid there in bed, reflecting once more and coming to the conclusion that he was a right fool. And utterly captivated, charmed, right fool. Bilbo's face still hurt from smiling so much, and he could only wonder what he had looked like the previous night, when his spirits had soared and he had spent the entire dinner grinning and reveling in the feeling of having fixed everything between them. 

But he knew of how he had left lingering touches, unable to stop himself and that he had giggled mercilessly and had acted so silly. Thorin was a  _dwarf_ , what was he even thinking? Besides he was only visiting the Shire, he would soon return to his home in Ered Luin. Like he had said last night, travelling was travelling. Not many people stuck in your mind.

* * *

 The weather seemed to reflect Bilbo's sour mood for the next few days. It started modestly at first, the weather turning a bit colder and humid, with dark clouds slowly rolling in. It didn't stop him from going down to the market to visit the dwarves of course, but he didn't spend nearly as much time there as before. He found himself constantly glancing towards the smithy, hoping that Thorin would come out. He mostly didn't however, and Bilbo resigned himself to disappointment. Fíli and Kíli seemed to pick up on what he thought was well disguised dismay, and set out to remedy it the best they knew how.

"Say Bilbo, can Fíli and me come over for dinner?" Kíli asked, popping over to where Bilbo was talking to Dori. The hobbit looked up at him in surprise before nodding.

"Yes, of course. Why the sudden interest?" He asked, paying the weaver for some cloth he had purchased. Kíli shrugged.

"No reason. Maybe we just want to try hobbit food."

"Don't let Bombur hear that," Dori warned. "He'll think you don't like his food."

"Yeah, well after eating only his cooking for more than a year straight, a dwarf wants to give his tastebuds a refresher." Kíli grumbled, making Bilbo suppress a laugh. The young dwarf grinned before reaching over then stand and clapping Bilbo's shoulder.

"Can you make some more of that apple pie? We promise not to track dirt in again!" He said, causing Bilbo to roll his eyes. Fíli gave a him a hopeful look from where he still stood at their stand, talking to another hobbit. Bilbo sighed and nodded.

"Yes, yes of course. Just tell your uncle where you'll be, hm?" He said. He didn't want Thorin to worry unnecessarily when he could just sit back and know that they were in fully capable hands.

"You got it, Bilbo." Kíli replied, going off to report to his brother with a wide grin. Bilbo sighed again and smiled. He was getting himself into a mess, wasn't he? 

The mess to follow wasn't as bad as Bilbo might have thought it would be when the brothers came to Bag End a bit after 4 o'clock, opting out of their responsibilities to have afternoon tea. Thorin let them go willingly, giving his nephews a long suffering sigh as they raced out of the smithy. Bilbo heard the two knocks on the door from where he sat in his study, skimming through a book.

"Come in!" He called, rising from his chair and going off into the foyer. Fíli and Kíli's boisterous voices met his ears as they entered, waving at him when he came into view.

"This is nice. I never thought a hole in the ground could be so spiffy." Kíli observed as he moved to wipe his boots off on a small box.

"That's my mother's glory box, you scoundrel! Don't wipe your feet on it!" Kíli immediately stepped back and offered a sheepish smile as he apologized. Fíli stripped his boots off with a relaxed sigh as he left them underneath the coat hooks, stretching his legs.

"Kíli's right, this is nice." Fíli agreed, looking around briefly before heading down a hall to explore without another word. Kíli hurried after him, tossing his boots next to his brother's with a grin. Bilbo sighed as they went off and nodded to himself before heading off to the kitchen. If they wanted pie for dessert, they'd certainly get it.

It had begun to darken considerably as Fíli and Kíli finally found their way back to Bilbo, having thoroughly explored Bag End. The clouds hung heavily in the sky, dark and somber. Bilbo looked out the window warily as he rolled the dough for the pie crust, glancing at the two dwarves when they came tromping into the kitchen.

"Ooo, is that dough?" Kíli asked as he put a hand on Bilbo's shoulder too look at it. Bilbo nodded as he flattened it carefully.

"Can you eat it?"

"What, the dough?" Bilbo asked, giving him an odd look. Pie crust wasn't like cookie dough, the former being rather tasteless with only a slight buttery taste, whereas the other was sweet and delicious. Bilbo shrugged. "Well, yes. I don't think you'll like it very--"

Kíli reached over Bilbo's shoulder to tear off a piece of the dough, narrowly avoiding the hobbit's swat as he stuffed it in his mouth. Bilbo turned to watch the dwarf as he chewed the dough, eyes narrowed as he considered the taste.

"Well?"

Kíli swallowed.

"Can I have more?"

"No! Off with you, find something in the pantry!" Bilbo spluttered, swatting away the hungry dwarvish hands that threatened to eat the entire pie before it could even be made. Kíli grabbed Fíli and lead him off to the pantry, leaving Bilbo to continue baking. He grumbled as he rolled and flattened the previously misshapen dough once more. A series of crashes and thumps from the general direction of the pantry made him wonder if he should check on them before they destroyed his home. Fíli cheered a moment later, and Bilbo found himself smiling. They would be perfectly fine.

Only when Bilbo had finally put the pie on its shelf in the hearth to bake did he go looking for the brothers. Bilbo found them sitting on the floor outside the pantry, snacking on the cherries that Bilbo usually kept several bowls of. They snickered to each other, mouths stained red with the juice. Bilbo found himself smiling fondly as Fíli noticed him and waved.

"Nice pantry Bilbo, you got anymore?" Fíli asked, his jest clearly visible. Bilbo smirked to himself. Clearly they hadn't explored very well, otherwise they would've found the other three. Bilbo simply shook his head as he settled onto the floor with them and plucked a cherry from the bowl.

"Say, can you two do this?" Bilbo asked, taking the stem off the cherry and putting it on his tongue. With well practiced movements, Bilbo worked the stem until he stuck out his tongue once more, now showcasing a tied stem. Kíli gaped at him before snatching them stem from Bilbo's tongue and staring st it in ill disguised wonder, causing Bilbo and Fíli to laugh.

"That's incredible! How'd you do this?" Kíli cried, looking at a still laughing Bilbo. The hobbit composed himself as he took another cherry and tore off the stem, holding it in front of Kíli's face with the utmost seriousness. Kíli scrambled to mimic his movements, copying Bilbo exactly.

"So you just take the stem..." Bilbo put it in his mouth and Kíli followed. "Put it in your mouth, soften it up..." Kíli's eyes were so focused on Bilbo with such rapt attention that the hobbit couldn't help but break down and grin as he gave his final instruction.

"Then tie it!" Bilbo did it as quick as he could, then showed it to Fíli and Kíli, the former bursting into laughter once more and the latter spluttering indignantly.

"No, that doesn't make sense! I need for direction! This is so unfair, oh, Fíli not you too!"

At Kíli's crestfallen pout, Bilbo wrapped an arm around the dwarf and gave him a hug. "I can't just instruct you silly, you have to learn it through experience. Your brother and I just happen to know how to do it."  

"I don't actually." Fíli admitted, still grinning. "But he looked like such a sorry bastard that I just couldn't join him in that attempt!" Kíli lunged and tackled his brother, Fíli chortling even as they crashed back into the wall. Kíli tugged at his moustache braids while Fíli yanked on his brother's hairclip.

"Ugh, get off me! You're too fat!"

"Me, fat?! I'm smaller than you!"

"In body and intellect it looks like!"

"Oh, you son of a--"

Bilbo distanced himself from the tousling brothers, hoping that they wouldn't break anything. He got up to check on the pie and saw that the sky had become increasingly darker. Bilbo frowned and tutted as he looked over his pie, the crust beginning to brown. If the weather got any worse, he would have to make Fíli and Kíli go back to...wherever they were staying. Where were they staying exactly?

"Fíli, Kíli, come here!" He called, moving away from the hearth and towards the counter where he had a plate of scones sitting. He put them on the table as the brothers came in, hair a mess and, oh what did he have on his face?!

"Is that blood?!" Bilbo exclaimed, floundering at what to do. Fíli shook his head and wiped the red away from his nose and lip.

"Oh no, just cherry." He replied cheerfully, snagging a scone and chomping down on it. Bilbo shook his head and gestured at the window.

"The weather isn't too good right now, and I suspect that it's going to get worse."

"Okay." Kíli said, taking the scone his brother held out to him.

"So, it's probably going to storm. With lots of rain and thunder."

"Ooo, cool." Fíli said and Bilbo resisted the urge to knock their heads together.

"Where are you staying? Will everyone be okay in this weather?" He asked, sitting down on the chair. The brothers shared a look before slowly nodding.

"Yeah, yeah they'll be fine. We're in that forest over there." Fíli made a vague gesture but Bilbo nodded anway, understanding where he was talking about.

"You have a tent then? To ward off the rain?"

"No, but we have trees."

"For the love of--no." Bilbo shook his head. "Confusicate you blasted dwarves. Come alone then, let's go get everyone."

"What, and bring them here?" Kíli whined. "Aw Bilbo, leave those brutes at the camp. They'll be fine!"

Bilbo shot him a look. "Kíli, that's terrible! What if they ended up getting a cold?"

"Psh, we don't get colds!" Kíli declared as Fíli cuffed his head. Bilbo hurried over to the hearth to take out the pie, no knowing how long it would take for them to get back. He very much didn't want to return to his hobbit hole with another 11 dwarves in tow only to find Bag End to be aflame because he left a pie in too long.

"Yes well, if  _somehow_  one of you got a cold from this weather, I'd feel terrible for not having prevented it when I had the means to. So perk up and lead on!"

Kíli grumbled as they left Bag End, the wind blowing at Bilbo's jacket roughly. Fíli and Kíli seemed unfazed by it, simply walking forward like the wind wasn't trying to blow them away. Bilbo pushed his curls out of his face as a gust blew them in front of his eyes annoyingly. He really needed to get a haircut.

Bilbo knew where the area where the dwarves were camping well enough, seeing as how he had camped there a few times himself. Never in the rain of course, though he could've should the want ever arose. But without a tent, they'd be sopping wet and sick by the end of the night! The trees were thick, but not enough to ward off a storm's slight chill and heavy downpour. Fíli and Kíli led him there quickly, the former letting out a cry of dismay when a rain droplet hit his head.

"Ugh! We'd better hurry, I don't want to get caught in this mess." Bilbo and Kíli agreed wholeheartedly and hastened their paces. 

* * *

It was raining.

Thorin  _hated_ the rain.

It soaked everything and made your clothes uncomfortable and caused your hair to stick to your face in wet strings. It was horrid. Luckily, living in a place like Ered Luin provided much covering from the weather, seeing as most of the settlement was either built into the mountains, or made of stone, which did not leak or do anything else many other races' flimsy housing did. But in the Shire? The bloody place was open, filled with  _grass_  and  _trees_  that seemed to relish in making water drip on heads and soaking the bits of the pants they could reach. Thorin considered making the company move into the forge until it let up, but the building was far too small for them to all be in there comfortably. They were all wet and sopping already; comfort was exactly what they needed. 

"We're back!" Ah yes, the comforts of family. Not what Thorin had intended, but nice nonetheless. At least Fíli and Kíli could suffer with him.

"Bilbo's here too!" Oh. Well, that wasn't too bad either.

Thorin turned to see his nephews and Bilbo come into the clearing, already soaked from the rain that had turned heavy in a heartbeat. Fíli and Kíli seemed to be enjoying it more than Bilbo, who quite honestly looked a bit like a drowned cat. A well dressed cat, but most definitely one who did not like the rain. The hobbit gave a little wave and pushed at his wet curls that were plastered to his forehead.

"Yes well, it's raining--"

"Nice observation, laddie!" Dwalin called, making everyone snicker. Bilbo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms tight across his chest. Thorin realized that he must've been freezing, given how the temperature dropped a bit. Dwarves were more used cooler temperatures, as living inside a mountain wasn't always the warmest at times, but even this weather was verging on giving him a chill.

"You can all stay at my home until the rain lets up, or anytime in fact. But I'm rather cold right now so if you're coming, let's go!" The company nearly tripped over themselves in their haste to get our from underneath the trees and follow Bilbo, who was downright shivering by now. Their packs were still dry as they'd covered them in their cloaks just before the rain had started, so Thorin was glad that they would all have dry clothes when they got to Bilbo's smial.

The rain was relentless, beating on the grass and dirt and making things rather sloppy. Their boots splashed in the puddles and flicked water and mud onto their pants, effectively making all their clothes dirtier and dirtier. The walk that normally took 20 minutes to get back into Hobbiton seemed to take hours, all of them growing colder as they continued to be rained on. Ori had offered his cloak to Bilbo already, who passed it off, saying that he needed his pack to remain dry and that he would he fine. Truthfully, he looked a bit far from fine, teeth chattering as he rubbed roughly at his arms. Thorin sighed and hurried forward, standing next to Bilbo. The hobbit looked up at him inquisitively as Thorin took his cloak off from where he had wrapped it around his pack and held it over the both of them, stopping the rain fall a bit, even as the wet article dripped occasionally.

"Won't your pack get wet?" Bilbo asked. Thorin shook his head, though he knew it would probably be damp by the time they reached their destination. Bilbo sighed and made grabbing motions, signaling for Thorin to hand it over. He did so, and Bilbo held the bag tight against him, keeping it out of the way of the downpour. "There, now we're both fine."

Thorin scoffed, which made Bilbo smile as they continued on. They must've made an odd sight, a group of dwarves following a hobbit who was hiding beneath a cloak with another dwarf. Thorin snorted. They probably looked ridiculous.

"Here we are, Bag End." Bilbo sighed as they walked up Bagshot Row, the green door bright even with the dreary weather. Bilbo pushed open the door and ushered everyone inside, ruffling his wet hair as they filled the foyer.

"Ah, boots off! Right now if you please!" Bilbo said, nearly wringing his hands at the mud that was already on the floor. The company obliged, taking off their boots and setting them beneath the coat hooks in a messy line. They all looked horrid, to be frank. Nori's elaborate pointed hairstyle was a poor try at its normal self, Bofur's braided pigtails hung limp on his shoulders instead of curving in their normal jovial way, and Balin's beard was soaking wet, clumping and dripping water down the front of his clothes.

"You all look terrible." Bilbo giggled, hiding his smile behind his hand. He was met with an uproar of affronted replies, though most of the company was grinning while they said it.

"Come now, you must all be freezing. I'll show you to your rooms and you can change and then have some dinner." Bilbo said, beckoning towards the hallways behind them.

"You sure you have enough room for us?" Gloín asked. "We're not a small group."

"Yes, yes, it's fine. There's plenty of guest rooms here, it's no problem." He replied, turning to smile at them. Thorin's eyes trailed over Bilbo's form, from the wet curls to the way his trousers fit snug against his legs from being wet and shifted with each movement. Thorin coughed into his hand, adjusting as he walked. Those were not nice thoughts he was having about his friend.

Bilbo hadn't lied when he said he had plenty of room, as he showed them 7 rooms, a few unfurnished of with the exception of three guest rooms and a Man sized room.

_Why does he have a Man sized room?,_ Thorin wondered as he watched his company get shuffled into the various rooms.

"You'll have to have up to three in a room, is that alright?" He asked, worry evident in his voice as though he might be going against something important in dwarvish culture. They all shrugged off his concerns and went into the rooms with flourish, sighing as they took off their packs and stretched.

"A real bed! Oh, it's been too long!" Kíli crowed, falling on his knees and hugging the soft bed gratefully. Thorin caught Bilbo giving a wink to Ori as he nudged him into a room with Dwalin, making the scribe blush a shade of red that Thorin had never seen. He wondered if hobbit courtship were different then dwarvish ones, as usually the couple were not allowed to sleep in the same room alone until they were engaged. Dwalin and Ori had only exchanged their first gift so far, but then again, they weren't so formal as others were. Besides, even if they had planned on doing... _something_ , Dori and Nori most likely had some sort of internal alarm that went off anytime Dwalin was within two feet of Ori. They'd be fine.

He was the last to receive a room, and right next to Bilbo's no less! The hobbit told him as much and smiled before going off into his own room and shutting the door behind him. Thorin stood in the room and looked around, taking in the soft, cushy bed and the few pictures on the walls. There was a dresser pushed against one wall, and a blanket chest as the end of the bed, but it was relatively bare otherwise. The window above the bed showed that it was still indeed raining, the droplets sliding down the glass heavily.

Thorin sighed as he began to undress, slipping off his wet tunic and letting it drop with a wet smack. He slipped out of his damp pants and opened his pack, drawing out his thankfully dry clothes. A small bang in Bilbo's room caught his attention and he moved closer to the wall as he slipped into the dry pants. Bilbo was humming cheerfully as moved about, and Thorin could practically see him undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, and stripping off the wet thing then following with his shirt, the fabric a bit sheer from the rain as he undid it and peeled away the article from his torso--

Thorin's bit down on his fist and stifled a groan, breathing in deeply through his nose. He walked back to the bed where his pack was and quickly grabbed his other tunic, pulling it on. Thorin sat down on the bed, feeling it sink under his weight as he rubbed his face.

He had needs as a person, needs that he hadn't fulfilled in a long while. Needs that were impairing his judgement and making him think of Bilbo Baggins as more than just a friend, which he  _was_. Honestly, he needed to get a good wank in soon, before he ended up jumping the next thing of his interest, which would probably still be Bilbo. The hobbit probably wouldn't like that, not one bit.

 

* * *

Bilbo was the first to be done changing, picking up his wet clothes from the floor and carrying them out of his room. He could hear the dwarves talking and was confident they'd all be fine as he went off to the fireplace, checking the clock on the mantel for the time. It was a bit past six o'clock, which meant they'd be eating a late dinner. Bugger, and he still had to hang their things to dry! Bilbo tsked as he took his wet clothes to the washroom and draped them on the line he kept strung in there. His clothes were light and they'd dry quick enough, but he was unsure about the company's clothes. The fabric looked so heavy and thick, Bilbo was unsure if he  _could_ get it completely dry. 

He didn't have anytime for doubts as he heard the doors opening once more and the group began to convene.

"Bilbo! Where'd you go off to?" Bofur called, followed by an echo of Fíli and Kíli. The hobbit grinned and shook his head, his still wet hair sending droplets flying.

"Ah, here he is!" Bofur popped his head in the doorway of the washroom, a jovial smile on his face. His hair had already mostly dried, the braided pigtails he normally wore already curving out once more.

"Yes, here I am." Bilbo replied. "Would you mind telling everyone to bring their wet clothes into here? I'll hang them to dry, or you can wash them if you'd like."

"You got it." Bofur went off with a wink, followed by a shout of, "Hey, grab your filthy clothes you animals! Bilbo is gonna hang em for us!" A cheer echoed throughout Bag End, and Bilbo wondered why they were so excited to have their laundry strung up.

The company began to pour in after that, some like Ori handing their clothes to Bilbo respectfully, and most others just throwing the tunic and trousers onto the floor at his feet. Bilbo huffed and grumbled as he picked up the articles, wondering about the manners of dwarves. Didn't their mothers ever teach them such things?!

Thorin was the last one to come in, giving a Bilbo a small nod as he began to hang his own clothes.

"Oh come now, I can do that." He told him. "I'm only doing everyone else's." He added with a huff. Thorin coughed, but Bilbo knew fine well that he was disguising a laugh. The dwarf came over and picked up the clothes from the floor, the pile looking rather heavy.

"They're my friends, I can handle their laundry." He said and Bilbo scoffed.

"Yes, well most of are mine too and all of then are guests! I can take care of it." Bilbo went over and tugged some of the clothing free from Thorin's grasp, then went back to hanging them. Thorin was silent for a moment before speaking.

"Thank you for this." He said quietly. "We all owe you a great debt."

"That's ridiculous, you owe me nothing!" Bilbo replied. "What kind of friend would I be if I let you all sit out in the rain when I have plenty of space here?"

"We would've made due. We've done it before on our travels." Thorin said, a scowl beginning to creep up on his face.

"Yes well, I frankly just do not care." Bilbo declared. "Anybody who would deny someone cover from the elements is an awful, terrible creature."

"Perhaps you're the pick of the bunch then." Thorin said softly, smiling at Bilbo when the hobbit turned to look at him. Bilbo's face burned as he hurried to finish hanging the clothes, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat sped up. Oh, Thorin only meant that he was better than the Men or others he'd met! Why was he being so foolish and letting himself even  _think_ otherwise?

Bilbo shivered slightly as he left the washroom. With Bag End being built into a hill, it was very cool in the summer, but still kept heat in the winter. However, seeing as it was summer, Bilbo was feeling rather chilly in his hobbit hole. He went to fireplace near the kitchen where the rest of the company seemed to have convened and put a few pieces of kindling in the hearth, then grabbed his pack of matches from the mantel. He coaxed the fire into a small blaze before adding a few logs, then went off to attend to his company.

Obviously, they'd found the pantry if all the food on the table was any indication. The modest plate of scones from earlier was gone, and replaced by what looked to be most of his first pantry. The dwarves had pushed all his chairs into the dining table and were quite crammed in, but didn't seem to mind. Bilbo watched as food flew across opposite sides to land on plates and in mouths, and when Bofur threw a boiled egg that landed directly in Bombur's mouth, the cheer the company let out was deafening.

"I told you that you knew nothing of dwarvish appetites." Thorin said as he came up behind Bilbo, effectively giving the hobbit a fright.

"Oh Thorin! You scared me!" Bilbo said, exhaling with a laugh. "And this appetite is scarcely anything I haven't seen before. You have never seen a good old Shire birthday party."

Thorin hmphed. "Your folk are smaller than ours."

"Small bodies, big stomachs." Bilbo said, then smiled as Bofur waved him over, patting the rather small space next to him on the bench. Bilbo smiled at Thorin, then went over to sit with the dwarf.

* * *

He wasn't jealous. Even though his dear friend was stealing Bilbo right from him, all smiles and open spaces at the table. Thorin found himself childishly loathing to admit how well they seemed to go together, both having bright smiles and an optimistic outlook and queer hairstyles. Bilbo's was undoubtedly more attractive, but that was besides the point. Did he even have a point? It wasn't as though Bilbo was his, far from it. But it still felt like betrayal to see both his friend and his nephews get along better then they did. How long would it be until Bilbo was only inviting Bofur over for dinner and making eyes at him? Bofur was a horrible romantic as far as Thorin had seen. Bilbo seemed like he would be much the same, and it set a heavy weight in his stomach.

He was being ridiculous. He should be happy about how well Bofur and Bilbo got along. His friend had never had much luck in love, always getting turned down. To see Bilbo like this with him, he should've been congratulating him. But Thorin couldn't do that without it being a lie.

"You know, I'll eat your dinner for you, Uncle!" Kíli called. Thorin noticed the spare chair that was waiting for him and went over, sitting down as a plate was pushed towards him. He most certainly did not give Bofur a dirty side look. 

* * *

Bilbo looked up just in time to see Thorin looking over with a scowl, his frown deeply set. Bilbo's gaze fell back to his plate with a sinking feeling. He must've walked away from Thorin when he had more to say. Wonderful, he'd screwed up.

After a rather loud and jovial dinner that concluded with his mother's fine china rolling and flying through the halls of Bag End, only to come out cleaned and in perfect condition, Bilbo felt that he needed a sit down. The company followed him of course, all of them moving into the parlour and taking seats on chairs and couches and floors. Bilbo started the fire in there as well, still feeling chilled. Oh, he desperately hoped that he wasn't getting sick.

Once everyone was settled in, the chatter started up almost instantly. The company seemed very curious about hobbits, Ori especially. The young scribe soaked up each detail Bilbo gave him, making Dwalin cast what Bilbo thought was a very fond look at him. Bilbo smiled into the cup of tea he'd made before coming into the parlour. They  _were_  rather nice together.

"So, why do you all live in the ground?" Kíli asked, leaning against the chair Thorin was sitting in across from Bilbo.

"It's different from a mountain obviously, so don't go asking the same question." Dori said, hiding a wry grin. Bilbo got along quite well with the oldest Ri brother, who seemed to understand his fond exasperation for younger family and friends. He was also able to hand back any snark Bilbo gave off, which delighted the both of them to no end.

"It's cozy." Bilbo said, tugging his blanket up further on his lap. "Nice and dry, warm, well stocked. What more do you want?"

"He's right lads, I've seen a few hobbits myself who's holes should be mighty cozy." Bofur said, bursting into a fit of laughter as Bilbo's face burned. The dwarves roared with laughter, Dwalin slapping his knee and Kíli outright rolling on the floor.

" _Bofur!_ " Bilbo said, utterly scandalized. Gloín cackled about him blushing, which only made the company laugh even harder. Bilbo's eyes connected with Thorin's, the dwarf's look absolutely thunderous. It wasn't directed at him, as Thorin immediately glared at Bofur instead. Bilbo gave him an embarrassed smile, to which Thorin didn't return.

"Oh Mister Bilbo, are you trying to tell me that hobbits don't talk like that?" Nori asked. "You're more prudish then elves!"

"We are not prudish!" Bilbo exclaimed, covering his face as his blush increased at their laughs. "Can't we talk about something respectable?!"

"So said the non prude." Dwalin quipped, and the company muffled their dwarvish giggles. Bilbo rolled his eyes at them and took a sip of his tea, wishing his blush would just disappear.

"What do hobbits find respectable then?" Bombur questioned and Bilbo sent him a grateful look for the change in conversation.

"Round bellies, well combed feet and good parties." Bilbo said firmly and the confused look he received was enough to make him grin.

"Combed feet!" Kíli whispered to his brother, shaking his head. Nori sat on the couch next to Dori and stretched, reclining on his brother's form as he spoke.

"Parties, eh? Pretty respectable, I do agree."

"Not if it's your type of party." Dori grumbled, pushing as his brother.

"What sort of occasions do your folk have parties for?" Thorin asked, and Bilbo jumped a little, practically having forgotten the dwarf was there. He was so silent, and no one could fault Bilbo for trying to avoid thinking about Thorin.

"W-Well, the normal stuff." Bilbo said. "Birthdays and weddings and holidays."

"What, like Yule?" Ori asked. Bilbo nodded.

"Or the Harvest Festival." He said. "That's in a week and a half actually, preparations should he starting up."

"What do you do there? Celebrate about who grew the biggest tomatoes?" Bofur asked, grinning at Bilbo's eyeroll.

"Well, we do have contests and such." Bilbo admitted. "But it's mostly about getting together after a good season and eating and drinking lots. We say a few prayers to Yavanna for the fertile land, then everyone gets smashed and stuffs their face." Bilbo sighed happily. "Such a wonderful occasion."

Oín smacked Gloín's arm. "There's your stinkin' proof! Pay up!"

Bilbo looked at them in confusion. "Proof, proof of what?"

"Deaf one here thinks that hobbits are more related to dwarves then Men or elves. You look more elvish to me, no offense." Gloín said, swatting his older brother's hand as it tried to grab at his coin purse. "It's the ears and all, y'know?"

"I guess?" Bilbo replied, still confused. "I don't think we're related to dwarves though, nor elves however. Hobbits earliest ancestors were River Folk, so perhaps that might be a connection to Men? I don't honestly know, all the books I've read have never said."

"Fascinating." Ori murmured, drumming his fingers on his chin. Bilbo smiled.

"But back to the Harvest Festival, you should all-- _achoo_ _!!"_  Bilbo sneezed suddenly, arm going to cover his face. He sniffed grumpily. "Bugger, now I must be getting a cold."

The company was utterly silent, staring at Bilbo with an unreadable look. Bilbo looked at them in confusion.

"What, what is it? Do I have something on my face?"

"Bless my beard," Bofur said, a grin growing on his face. "That was the cutest thing I've ever heard!"

" _What?_ " Bilbo said. "It was a sneeze! It can't be cute!"

"You sounded just like a little bunny! Snuffling and everything too!" Fíli cried, and the laughing roar of agreements made Bilbo blush right up to the points of his ears. It didn't help that he sneezed again right after that, which only flustered the poor hobbit even more.

Oh, these dwarves! The nerve of them! 

* * *

If there was one thing Thorin was glad for, it was his ability to detach himself from a situation emotionally. It made him seem very distant to people, but was a good trait to be able to use. Especially when Bilbo Baggins was proving himself to be even cuter than Thorin thought possible, and he was trying to hold back his disgustingly sappy urge to hold to hobbit close. His face flushed a beautiful shade of pink when he was embarrassed, right up to the pointed tips of his ears. He even hid his face in his blanket, pulling it high around his head. He was singularly the most perfect creation Thorin had ever seen, and it disturbed him to no end. People could not be perfect, for they were all flawed in one way or another. But Bilbo, even with his snark and his fretting and the way he would yell at a stranger because he didn't agree with them, he wasn't flawed. He was unlike Thorin, seeming to always be in a good mood and untouched by hardships of the past, pure and whole. How foolish of him to have ever entertained the thought of being something more than friends with Bilbo.

Thorin mulled over that conclusion throughout the night, but managed to disguise it well enough so no one would think anything. Dwalin was distracted by Ori anyways, so it wasn't as though he'd be giving him any trouble. The rest of the company was as oblivious as it could get, simply chattering with Bilbo and laughing merrily.

But as the night wore on, they eventually began to drop off before retiring to bed. Bilbo of course managed to stay awake, wishing them a goodnight even as his eyes seemed to droop shut as often as they were open. It dwindled down until it was just Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo and him there in the parlour, the brothers already dozing from where they were slumped on either side of Thorin's legs. He nudged them both with his feet, waking Fíli only. The blonde snorted as he picked his head up, yawning loudly.

"Hmm, wha' is it?" He mumbled, looking ready to fall asleep once more.

"You and Kíli should go to your room. There's no sense in sleeping against a chair when you have a bed." He told him, smiling softly.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Fíli said, yawning again as he kicked at his brother's leg, jolting the younger one into wakefulness. Fíli hoisted him off the floor and they both said goodnight to Thorin and Bilbo before lumbering off. Thorin sighed as he watched them go, his smile growing.

"You look happy with them." Bilbo said suddenly. Thorin's eyes snapped to his to find Bilbo curled up in his chair, the blanket wrapped tight around him. He was smiling at Thorin with such a happy look that the dwarf's chest tightened.

"They're my only nephews, I have a reason to be." He said gruffly. Bilbo laughed and nodded.

"Mmm, but it's not just because you have the reason. They make you smile, it's a good thing." Bilbo laughed at Thorin's surprised look.

"I smile at other times." He said and Bilbo nodded.

"I know. You should do it more though." He said quietly, then fell silent. Thorin stared at the two portraits above the fireplace, a hobbit man and woman. The man had a bit of a frown on his face, as though he were of a more reserved nature. The woman however had a bright smile on her face, a mirror image of Bilbo's.

"Bilbo," Thorin began, then stopped when he looked back at the hobbit. He had fallen asleep, head leaning back against the chair as he snored softly. Thorin shook his head and now allowed himself to smile. Should he wake Bilbo and send the hobbit off? He  _did_  look rather comfy in his chair. 

With a sigh, Thorin settled in deeper into his chair. He told himself that it wouldn't be pleasant for anybody to wake up and find that they were the only one left in a room alone while everyone else slept elsewhere, and that he most certainly wasn't doing this out of selfish desire. 

* * *

Bilbo woke to the sun shining on his face, bright and chipper as though the storm of yesterday had never happened. He groaned and shielded his eyes, wondering why it was even shining on him. A groggy look around showed him that he was still in the parlour, and not in his bedroom.

"I must have fallen asleep." He muttered, rubbing at his eyes as he yawned. Bilbo caught sight of Thorin in the chair opposite of him and gasped, startled by his presence. He relaxed just as quickly upon seeing that the dwarf was asleep, face peaceful and lax in his sleep. Bilbo smiled as his eyes trailed over Thorin's face, his normally furrowed brows relaxed and his usually frowning mouth showing no such emotion. He didn't have a blanket over him, simply slouching with his arms crossed over his chest. Bilbo got up silently and took his blanket in both hands as he walked over to the dwarf. He laid the blanket down on Thorin's sleeping form, only managing to cover halfway up his forearms. Bilbo laughed slightly as he smoothed out the blanket, then suddenly found it a bit hard to breathe. He swallowed heavily and tore his eyes from Thorin, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart as he went off to the pantry.

Right. He needed to make breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the harvest festival is something that i made up, mostly because it'll play a role later on, and i chose to have hobbits worship yavanna because i feel like they appreciate nature and its bearings more then other races do, which would lead them to celebrating the one who created it uwu


	6. Chapter 6

Bilbo had always been quite the reader when he was younger, a hobby that carried over no matter how old he was. He would sit with his mother and they would look over pictures and words and his eager little mind would just soak everything up. It was the tale of dwarves that intrigued him, even more than that of elves. He'd already met elves--who could be downright stuffy at the worst of times, thank you very much--but never a dwarf. For his curious, adventurous, hobbit self, the strikingly slim tales and books about dwarves were the most gripping, interesting thing he'd ever read.

None of it could really prepare him for meeting  _actual_  dwarves however. The books that he had been given or accidently liberated from the library of Rivendell spoke neutrally of dwarves, unlike some elves themselves. Lord Elrond was never one to bash on other races, and rightfully set those who did in their place with a disappointed glare. He was forthcoming in his knowledge of dwarves, sitting at dinner with the Baggins during their stays and answering each question Bilbo had with terms simple enough for him to understand and remember. Dwarves were painted to be an uptight race, aloof and strong and certainly not the type you'd make friends with. The few miners and travellers Bilbo had met seemed that way as well, which was why the company of Thorin Oakenshield were so...shocking. in a good way yes, but they had certainly torn down most of things he thought he knew about the race. They weren't very uptight, nor that aloof either. Dwarves weren't hobbits, but Bilbo felt that he could get along with them better than he had with a good bunch of his peers.

But, just because he could get along with them, did 't mean he knew how to get through to them sometimes. This was mostly with Thorin, believe it or not. He was so stubborn and strong willed that Bilbo could scarcely hammer the points he made into his head. The point of gratitude and debts for example. Bilbo had acted a friend to them all, any sort of repayment was unsuitable. A simple thanks, and Bilbo was perfectly satisfied.

That didn't seem to sit right with Thorin however, or so his appearance at Bag End a week later showed. Bilbo had been busying himself with watching the three Gamgee children so that Hamfast and Bell could have a well needed rest, albeit a short one. He had a sleeping Daisy in his arms as Hamson and Halfred ran around Bag End, shrieking wildly in childish delight. At the sound of the door being knocked on, they both rushed off to answer it. Even at the young ages of only 8 and 4, they both had impeccable manners already. Perhaps it was a Gamgee family trait?

Bilbo could hear a low murmuring, too low to be any hobbit. He shifted Daisy in his arms and went off to the foyer. Bilbo barely managed to hold back a laugh at the sight in front of him.

Thorin looked utterly flabbergasted at the sight of the two oldest Gamgee children, who seemed more curious than anything of him. Halfred was crouched down, inspecting his boots with a confused pout, while Hamson was asking him as many questions as he could.

"Why do you have a beard?"

"I--"

"Do dwarves live in holes too? 'Cause I heard that they come from rocks! Is that true?"

"Well--"

"Why do you wear boots? Is it 'cause you don't like your feet? My Da says that--"

"Alright boys, that's enough." Bilbo finally interrupted, giving Thorin an amused smile as he looked up at Bilbo. The dwarf returned it slightly, making Bilbo turn his gaze back to the young fauntlings quickly. "It's about time you went home, isn't it?"

"Aww, Mister Bilbo!" Hamson whined. "I want to talk to your friend though!"

"Now, Hamson, you can talk to him next time. You've best be off." Bilbo said gently. Hamson pouted but nodded nonetheless. Halfred toddled over to Bilbo to grab his hand and Bilbo gave Thorin a quick apology.

"I'll be right back, just a minute." He said, then skirted the Gamgee children out the door. Thorin paused for a moment before following, hand straying to his belt.

"I have something for you. It's from the company and I, as thanks for all you've done." He said, and Bilbo tsked.

"Oh, I said that you needn't do anything of the sort, it's all fine." Halfred let go of Bilbo's hand and paused for a moment before taking Thorin's instead, smiling sweetly at the dwarf. That shut Thorin right up as he looked from Bilbo to Halfred in confusion.

"Oh, he likes you. Don't look so frightened." Bilbo said, laughing slightly. Thorin wrinkled his nose a bit.

"I am not frightened. I am just...unaccustomed to children acting this way."

"Even Fíli and Kíli?" Bilbo asked, and Thorin nodded.

"They were both terrified of  _everything_  when they were younger. Hid behind their mother's skirts at any available opportunity."

Bilbo snickered, imagining the seemingly confident brothers as a pair of far younger, beardless dwarflings running away in terror from a bug. Oh yes, life was good. "That's rather funny."

"It only lasted until they were each about 10, then the real trouble started." Thorin said as he shook his head. "They were much easier to control when they whole waking world was a terror for them." 

Hamfast was out in the garden when Bilbo and Thorin neared, the gardener taking off his hat to wave at them. Hamson took off running, shouting for his dad before colliding into him. Hamfast fell back onto the grass as his son began to go on and on about what he did while at Bilbo's, all while ignoring that the hobbit himself was still there.

"Yes, my boy, give me a moment to breathe!" Hamfast said, shaking his head. Halfred let go of Thorin's hand as he ran over to his father, flying into his open arms. Bilbo grinned and walked into the yard, still holding Daisy. Honestly, it was appearing that she could sleep through anything.

"Enjoy your day off?" Bilbo asked, handing Daisy off once Hamfast was back on his feet. The gardener yawned and nodded.

"I napped all day, can't get much better than that." He replied, then sent a glance over at Thorin. "Ooo, was I interrupting something?"

"Now, you stop it." Bilbo hissed, swatting his friend's arm. Hamfast grinned before giving Bilbo a nudge back to the gate.

"On with you then, I don't want to keep interrupting something that still has to happen."

"Oh, I will send them all back home with a belly full of sweets if you keep it up!" Bilbo said, and Hamfast laughed. He shook his head and sighed, glaring at his friend. Bilbo shut the gate with a little more force than necessary, which only made his friend laugh even more. The Gamgees were polite, but oh, could they be meddlesome!

"Did I miss something?" Thorin asked as they began to walk back to Bag End. Bilbo shook his head.

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. You were saying something about Fíli and Kíli?" 

"I was saying something about giving back to you for the help you've given us, before I was led off topic actually." Thorin said and Bilbo sighed.

"Honestly, it's fine. You're my friends, it's only natural that I should help."

"Perhaps." Thorin said as Bilbo pushed open the door. He looked as though he was going to follow, but instead decided to stay in the doorway. "But even so, it shall not go without being recognized." Thorin reached over to the pouch he had tied at his hip. "Here."

Bilbo took it with a puzzled eye, then gasped as the rope fell away and the pouch opened. He drew out a gardening fork and looked over the tool with ill disguised wonder. The handle was made out of the same type of wood as the other tools, though this one seemed more...thoughtful. Bilbo's fingers dragged along the smooth wood that went down to connect firmly to the thick metal spokes, and upon turning it over Bilbo found something.

"Are these my initials?"

"Ah, yes." Thorin said. He wasn't looking at Bilbo, staring instead right over his head. "I...remembered you saying something about your cousin's wife Lobelia and thought that if your things were marked, she would be less likely to take them."

"Oh no, she'll probably still try and nick them," Bilbo said with a laugh. "But it's a nice gesture." He caught Thorin's gaze and gave him a warm smile. "Thank you. It's far more than I deserve." 

"Hmph." Thorin snorted, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Bilbo grinned, then took a deep breath.

"Would you like to come to the Harvest Festival?" Bilbo asked hurriedly, then backtracked a bit. "Well um, the whole company really, but you as well. It's great fun, and there's plenty of food and drink and singing, so--"

"Yes." Bilbo stopped himself and looked at Thorin in surprise. The dwarf was smiling as he nodded. "Yes, we would all love to. When is it?"

"Oh um, two days from now! It's just a big party really, and it takes place all over the Shire, so no one would say anything if you attended." Bilbo licked his lips. "So you'll really come?"

"Of course." Thorin said, then gave Bilbo a curious look. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Oh um, no reason." Bilbo lied. "It's really nothing, just me fretting."

Thorin continued to look at him curiously but nodded nonetheless. He looked as though he wished to say something but decided against it, simply smiling and clearing his throat. "Yes well. Good evening, Bilbo."

"Ah, yes good evening." He replied, smiling as Thorin turned and began to walk away. Bilbo closed the door with a resonating click and settled against it. He found himself blushing and grinning madly as he breathed deeply. Oh, that had sounded like he was trying to ask him out at first, hadn't it? Terrible, terrible, he was just awful! 

* * *

"Wait, if everyone is hammered then how do they all go to work the next day?"

Bilbo wiped his hands on his napkin and looked over at Kíli with a raised eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

He had started bringing lunch for himself and a bit extra for the dwarves to eat with them since after he'd brought them all to Bag End that day during the storm, deciding to start eating his lunch with friends once more. He was rather unaccustomed to having all the hype during meals, not having experienced it since... since a while ago. But they were all good friends as usual, even if they did steal bits from his lunch.

"Don't you get hungover? Y'know, unable to function and all the next morning?" Kíli took one of the pieces of bread slathered in honey from Bilbo's basked and munched on it as he elbowed Fíli. "Remember Yule a few years ago when  _Adad_  hit it really hard and he could barely get out of bed for three days? Now  _that_  was bad."

Bilbo shook his head, unable to imagine drinking so much that you couldn't even  get up. "That has never happened to anyone  _ever._ Either your ale is far stronger than ours, or you're all a bunch of lightweights."

" _Lightweights_!" Gloín scoffed as he tore into a hunk of cheese. "Laddie, you ought to be watching those words. We dwarves can hold our liquor better than anyone!"

"Then what's the talk of being hungover for?" Bilbo argued. "Everyone is back up the next morning, no problem! Surely it's the same for you."

"Well, naturally we have a rest period the day after a holiday." Bofur chirped. "Everyone needs some time to get better!"

"That's lightweight talk." Bilbo said firmly. He bit into an apple as a cry of outrage echoed amongst the dwarves.

"I'll show you lightweight!"

"Bilbo is obviously trying to get us going! Lad, you're just being difficult aren't ya?"

"We need a proper bet around here, show this one who's on top!"

"A bet about what?" The company burst into rapid shouts at Thorin's question while the dwarf himself look wholly unmoved by the whole matter.

"He thinks hobbits can outdrink us!" Dwalin scoffed, stealing a seed cake from Bilbo's basket and nearly dropping it when the hobbit slapped his hand. Thorin gave Bilbo a warning look.

"Please do not tell me this is true. You will not survive a dwarvish drinking contest."

Bilbo scoffed. "You all underestimate us! Tonight, we'll show you indeed, and then the next morning when you're all a mess, the rest of the Shire will be doing just fine."

"I'll bet on that!" Nori hollered and suddenly there was a burst of commotion as they all started naming their bets. Bilbo smiled at Thorin with a shrug of his shoulders.

"It'll be fine." 

* * *

It would be fine, that is, if he could get himself out of the door. First, he couldn't find his favorite waistcoat, then he spilled tea all over his shirt! As luck would have it, when he went to grab another one, he managed to trip and scuff his knee, tearing one of his trouser legs in the process as well.

It couldn't be nerves. He was simply going to the Harvest Festival, an event he'd been attending since he was but a babe. Granted, this was the first time he'd gone there to do more than accept his usual award and exchange pleasantries in longer than awhile, but that shouldn't make a difference. Yes, the company was to be there as well, but he had been spending plenty of time with them lately as it was. Then again, there was  _him_. Blasted dwarf with his grey streaked hair and ridiculous braids and charming smile, making Bilbo turn into some type of nervous mess. It wasn't fair, they couldn't all be Mister Calm and Composed all the time. 

Eventually he set out from Bag End, tugging and fixing his waistcoat as he walked. The festival was held in the Party Field each year, and as such, Bilbo didn't have much time to dally on his way there. The field was easily visible from his front steps, especially now as it began to darken and lanterns were hung. Hobbits waved to him as they walked past, none stopping yet to talk. Bilbo sighed and fiddled with a waistcoat button, truthfully dreading the event. He hadn't spent much time amongst his fellow hobbits at gatherings since that day, and wasn't sure how he would handle them. They'd all be delighted to see him of course, but he was in no mood to be swarmed, thank you very much! 

Oddly enough, he never felt swarmed by Thorin and the company, even though they were all taller, and stronger and simply  _bigger_ than he was. He could barely handle 5 hobbits at one time, let alone 13. Bilbo had always seemed to like those bigger than him, rather being in the company of a few he had to look up to, rather than many who he saw at eye level. Perhaps it was all just conditioning from knowing so many elves when he was younger? He spent most of his time with the elves being taught bits of information, never really playing like he did with other younger hobbits (though Lord Elrond's sons  _had_ been as mischievous as any fauntling!), so it couldn't have been the case. Bilbo sighed and shook his head. Today was a holiday, time for cheer and getting ridiculously drunk. He had no place to be thinking so seriously. 

"There he is!" Bilbo looked up at the sudden shout, then smiled at the voice's owner. Bofur waved his fingers at him as Fíli and Kíli shoved past him to get to Bilbo. Thorin was farther behind talking to Dwalin, but stopped to roll his eyes at the young dwarves. Bilbo caught his gaze and smiled as Fíli and Kíli crashed into him, nearly making all three of them fall.

"You can't even hold your own against us bumping into you. You won't survive this drinking contest!" Kíli declared, wiping dirt off his pants. Bilbo shot him a look.

"You both probably weigh double of what I do, so of course I can't hold your own against you  _slamming_  into me!" He snipped. "Hobbits are made to hold their drink I assure you, so I don't think it's going to be me who doesn't survive."

"That sounds like a threat."

"Oh no, don't be daft! It's just a promise."

Bofur grinned as he came up to Bilbo, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Lead on, my hobbit! The sooner we get to the drinks the sooner we can settle this!"

Bilbo grinned back and playfully wrapped an arm around the dwarf's waist, feeling himself relax nearly instantly. He didn't know what it was about them, but Bilbo always felt much more...content when he was with them. Not Thorin so much, as Bilbo was constantly petrified of somehow making a blushing fool out of himself, but even they always eased into a comfortable atmosphere. It was nice, very nice in fact.

Of course, the drinking didn't start up immediately when they got to the festival, as everyone had to be somewhat sober for the first part of it. Wine was always distributed first, as it wasn't as strong as hobbit ale and was like water to most folk anyways, so it rarely had much of an affect. Bilbo was determined to try and keep the dwarves away from it as best as he could, because Eru forbid they ended up drunk before the real fun could even begin.

"Bilbo, there you are my lad!" Gerontius Took, otherwise known as the Thain of the Shire or better yet, Grandfather by Bilbo himself smiled as he spotted his grandson, walking towards them with a bright look in his eye. Even at the old age of 130, he was still quite active, able to get around with the help of his walking stick and occasional assistance of a nearby hobbit. Bilbo smiled and hugged his Grandfather, swallowing heavily. The older hobbit didn't seem to notice and simply peered past him, then waved slightly.

"Ah, yes you're the dwarves I spoke to about staying here. I take it Bilbo here invited you all?" Bilbo turned to look at Thorin who inclined his head in greeting before nodding.

"Yes, he did. Master Baggins has been most kind and helpful to us." The Old Took smacked Bilbo's arm suddenly, making the hobbit splutter in confusion.

"What was that for?!"

"Master Baggins! Oh, Bilbo you're being stuffy with them aren't you!" Bilbo looked over at Thorin who seemed mildly alarmed and a great deal worried that he'd said something wrong.

"No, Thorin is just being formal. Honestly Grandfather--"

"Wait,  _you're_ Bilbo's grandfather?" Kíli interjected, eyebrows raised. "So, you could tell us embarrassing stories about him from when he was younger, right?"

While Bilbo swatted his arm in outrage, Gerontius laughed heartily, tilting his head back. "Indeed I do! But I'm sure my grandson would more likely kill both you and I before we could even reach the end of one. He's always had such an awful little temper."

"Grandfather!"

"Bilbo, havin' a temper?" Bofur said skeptically. "Sir, I've gotta say, the only time I've seen him angry was when we tried to take care of our plates after dinner."

"You  _rolled_ them down my hall and sung about breaking them!" Bilbo waved his hands at them. "Away with you, you're making me sound evil. Go on!"

The dwarves laughed amongst themselves but went nonetheless, leaving Bilbo to talk with his grandfather. He sighed and shook his head, curls wagging. Gerontius smiled at him.

"I haven't seen you this excitable in a while, my boy. It's a good change." Bilbo sniffed.

"Yes well, they're all very good company. Meddling, but we both have friends like that." Bilbo added the last part wryly, making Gerontius grin.

"Yes, but I have the one. You have 13."

"Yours is a wizard." 

"And yours are dwarves? What point are you trying to make, Bilbo?" The hobbit grinned as his grandfather patted his shoulder. "Go on, then. Have fun tonight, you deserve it."

"Thank you, I will." Bilbo smiled as he went over to where the dwarves had moved, dangerously close to the wine, Bilbo noticed with a shrewd eye. As he went tell Kíli and Bofur about how they were never talk to his family again, Thorin caught his gaze with a serious look.

"Thorin, what's wrong?" He asked, breath catching when Thorin stepped close to him. The dwarf looked sorry, almost forlorn, confusing Bilbo further. "Thorin..."

"You never told us you were of such a prominent family." Thorin pinned Bilbo to his spot with a piercing look. "It is not right to have let us stay with you, nor is the way we treat you."

"Wait, what?" Bilbo shook his head. "What  _are_ you talking about?!"

"Your grandfather is Lord over this region, is he not? We are but simple merchants, not fit to be in the company of such--"

"That's a load of nonsense!" Bilbo cut him off with a wave of his hand. "My grandfather is the Thain, Thorin, hardly a lord! I mean yes, we follow a family line but it has nearly  _nothing_ to do about power, or lordship or anything! My family is wealthy, but hardly some type of royalty you're painting us to be! Me, the grandson of a lord!" Bilbo scoffed. Thorin blinked rapidly, obviously rather confused.

"But--"

"There's no buts, Thorin. Hobbits don't care for power, or ruling or any of that. You're just spilling nonsense, so shut up and stop!" The last bit came out harsher than Bilbo had expected and the hobbit nearly winced when Thorin's face closed off a bit. "I didn't mean--"

"I apologize, Bilbo. Pardon me." Thorin walked off, moving out of the pavilion with an unreadable look on his face. Bilbo sighed and looked down, scrubbing a hand over his face. When he looked up again, Balin had appeared with an understanding look.

"Don't take it personally, laddie, he's just a bit stubborn sometimes. He'll be back soon, no problem." Bilbo sighed and nodded.

"I just feel terrible about it all. Why did he get so worked up over it?"

"Ask him when he comes back after his cool down, he'll tell you." Bilbo nodded again and watched as Balin went back to where he'd been talking with Gloín. Bilbo glanced around at the other hobbits and saw that they were sending wary looks in his direction, as if unsure about the company still. They had been here over a month and while all the hobbits that went to their stands were perfectly polite, they seemed unsure and reluctant here. Bilbo spotted Hamfast and Daisy, Hamson and Halfred tottering at their sides and got an idea. He hurried over to his friend, said his perfunctory greetings, then turned his attention to the two fauntlings.

"How would you boys like to ask the dwarves a few questions?" 

* * *

Thorin did indeed come back, arriving less than five minutes before the announcements started. By that time, most, if not everyone had taken the nearest seat, Bilbo and the company taking up nearly a whole table. The Gamgees joined them there which ended up leaving only one open seat; right next to Bilbo. Thorin took it hesitantly, looking at Bilbo as though the hobbit might reject his very presence. Bilbo simply smiled and patted his arm, relaxing the dwarf enough that he leaned with a small sigh.

"I apologize for earlier, my behavior was unacceptable."

"No, it's alright? Another cultural misunderstanding, I think?" Bilbo asked, making Thorin nod.

"Indeed. Any tie to power or royalty is taken very seriously in dwarven culture, and to dismiss it is to put dishonor on your family."

"I understand that," Bilbo "But what was the bit about it not being right that you stayed with me? You're friends, surely it doesn't matter?" Thorin again shook his head.

"It is very uncommon for those of power to have a relationship besides anything business related with those below them. For a lord, or in your case, ths grandson of a Thain," Thorin nodded at him, "you being friends with us, let alone going out to fetch us in the rain is beyond improper. Again, I apologize for how I acted over it."

"It's all fine." Bilbo told him, patting his arm. "I quite like having you all as friends and staying over and what not, so let's do it my way, hm?" Bilbo grinned. "If I ever go to a dwarf kingdom, I'll be sure to follow as many of the customs as I can."

Thorin snorted, but smiled and nodded as the Thain stepped up on his platform to begin the announcements. Truthfully, Bilbo was only half paying attention to his grandfather, the hobbit's annual speech like a murmuring in his ears. He occasionally looked over at the rest of the company, glancing when they laughed at the jokes or became utterly engrossed in what Gerontius was saying. Overall, however, Bilbo found that he couldn't take his attention off of Thorin. His expression bore a slight upturn of his lips, as if he wished to smile and his gaze stayed fixed on the Thain throughout the whole announcement. Bilbo found himself smiling softly and wishing to reach and take Thorin's hand where it rested so close to his own.

Bilbo found himself enjoying the festival, even if they were just sitting at the tables right now. In the previous years, attending had seemed like a chore, something he had to go to so that people still retained the respectable image he had. Some rebellious part of him wanted to tell them that he wasn't okay, that he wasn't coping like he should've been. He could hear his mother's voice behind it, urging him to find solace in  _something_. He'd found it temporarily in books, a small getaway from the deafening silence of his home. He could become part of the story, tune everything else and dream of a different path in his life.

But this, this was nice. This was what he needed. 

* * *

After a lovely award ceremony in which Bilbo once again won "Best Tomatoes in the West Farthing" and was met with a rather boisterous round of cheering and clapping by the dwarves and a fierce glare from where Lobelia sat not far away, the real fun begun.

Soon, people were up and at the huge buffet tables of food, stacking their plates high. The delicious scents of everything from roasted meats to tall, frosted cakes filled and warmed the air, and the people filling it as well. The dwarves had gathered a small bunch of both fauntlings and adults alike, who seemed comforted by the way the dwarves tore into the food and drink the same way they did. Bilbo took the time to slip away and mingle a bit, chatting with friends and family that he'd scarcely talked to in recent times. Many of his cousins were there of course, the younger ones shrieking in delight upon seeing him. Though he would not admit to it, his favorite was Primula, a smart little girl of 12 who he adored as much as she adored him.

"Bilbo!" She cried happily, rushing forward to be scooped up her older cousin and swung in the air. She screamed with laughter, kicking her legs merrily. "You're never here when I get here!"

"I know, but I decided to stay later this year." Bilbo replied with a smile, putting her back on the ground. She was quite small for her age, barely coming up past Bilbo's waist. What she lacked in height however, she made up for in curiosity.

"Why? You never  _ever_  stay later." She stated, giving him a pout. Bilbo nodded solemnly.

"Yes, that's true. But I invited those dwarves I told you about, so it wouldn't have been proper to go and leave them here." Her eyes lit up with delight and she peered past him.

"Where are they? Mama will let me talk to them, won't she?" Bilbo laughed and nodded. Her mother was a Took and her father a Brandybuck, there wasn't much they  _wouldn't_ let her do.

"Of course, my dear! Come along, you'll meet them right now."

"Right now?!" Her eyes widened as she grabbed Bilbo's hand, holding it tightly. It was rather odd for her to be struck with a bout of shyness, but Bilbo didn't think much of it. After all, he was the son of Took, and had still hid behind his mother's skirts the first time he ever saw an elf.

Upon approaching, Bilbo was met with an impossibly adorable scene. Dwalin, Ori, Bofur and Nori were all planted firmly on the ground as fauntlings swarmed them, crawling on them and giggling and oh my--

"Are they putting flowers in their hair?" Bilbo asked Thorin, who was still sitting at the table, only with little Halfred next to him this time. The child was munching away on a cookie, and from the looks of it, had already nabbed most of Thorin's unguarded plate. Thorin nodded.

"They are." He replied, then looked most perplexed. "Bilbo, I have never seen so many children in my entire  _life_. How is it possible that you have so many here?"

"Hobbits don't have small families, Thorin." Bilbo laughed. "Take Primula here. She has 4 siblings and another on the way." Bilbo gave the girl a nudge and she waved to Thorin who seemed dumbstruck by Bilbo's words.

"Mahal wept, a family with  _five_ children?!"

"Six actually, since Mama is gonna have another one soon!" Primula chirped, smiling at the dwarf. What Bilbo knew to be blatant shock, Primula took as simple interest and she let go of Bilbo's hand to go and sit down on the bench next to Thorin.

"Mister Dwarf, how old are you? I read a book that said that dwarves are hundreds of years old, is that true? You don't look anywhere near 100, you--"

"Prim, give him a chance to collect his wits." Bilbo said. "I'm fairly sure we've broken him anyhow." Primula giggled and Thorin snapped out of his daze to give Bilbo a look, which only made the hobbit grin.

"I am not broken, merely astounded by what you said." Thorin cleared his throat to look at Primula, who was staring at him expectantly. Bilbo hid his smile behind his hand. Oh, Thorin wasn't going to get out of answering a single question tonight.

While he was busy with that, Bilbo went off in search of the rest of the company. Bifur was with Oín, sitting at a different table and digging into a quite massive stack of food, while Bombur was surrounded by a group who were having a rather animated talk about cooking. Bilbo spotted Balin and Dori talking with Gerontius, the old hobbit practically beaming as they conversed. That left two unaccounted for, and Bilbo could only imagine what sort of trouble they were getting up to. He looked through the crowd for any flash of golden hair, as hobbits weren't as inclined to the color, and while height might have been a helpful factor, they could be sitting, or crouching or up some lass's knickers for all he knew, so he decided to keep with the hair color.

Eventually, he found them--not in anyone's knickers, thank Aüle--but not as well behaved as he might of hoped. A good bit of competition was necessary for a hobbit get together to go well, but this certainly took the cake. Literally, they had taken a whole cake.

It was Fíli and Kíli against his cousin Otho and some other hobbit who's name escaped Bilbo, in a rather large eating contest. A quick look around the table showed Bilbo that the four of them had already gone through what looked to be two whole chickens, countless dishes of potatoes and stews, and a rather alarmingly large platter of sweets. Bilbo shook his head.

"What are the rules?"

"Whoever quits first loses. Those dwarves eat just as we do, don't they?" Bilbo turned to look at the hobbit whom answered, only knowing him as some Proudfoot. He was older than Bilbo and had an odd expression on his face, one that made Bilbo slightly uneasy, for whatever reason.

"Yes well, they're a great deal similar to us, believe it or not." Bilbo told him, straightening his waistcoat. The hobbit snorted and nearly glared at Fíli and Kíli.

"I'll chose to not believe it then." He stalked off and left Bilbo feeling rather confused, and a bit defensive. What was he even implying with  _that_  statement? Bilbo shook his head and ducked in between Fíli and Kíli, making sure not to get in their way.

"Please don't be stubborn and eat until you're sick. I will have no pity for you whatsoever, and I just might laugh." The brothers grumbled around their mouthfulls of cake, faces dirty with specks of food and globs of icing. Of course, the opposing team looked no better and Bilbo sighed a bit. No matter who won, they were both going to be sick.

* * *

Once the curfew for the adolescents were reached and were all sent home or as far away as possible, the real fun began.

Or it was that way in the eyes of most of the grown hobbits, as the hard liquor and real ale was finally taken out. What was served at dinner was completely watered down, as many young hobbits would accidently grab the wrong cup and quite a few had ended up drunk when they shouldn't have been in the past. But now, with only those deemed adult were still around, finally engaging in one of the night's most anticipated activities.

Getting  _horrendously_  drunk.

Bilbo was of course never one to pass up such an opportunity and gladly took what was handed to him, sitting down next to Hamfast with a smile.

"Bell went home?"

"Aye, it's my year to stay." He replied. "Those dwarves of yours doing alright?"

"Two of them ate themselves to sickness," Bilbo admitted. "But they took down two hobbits with them so overall, yes. It's all good."

"And that one you were with a few days back?" Hamfast questioned with a growing grin. "The tall one with the nose? How's he?"

"He's a dwarf, so fine, like I said." Bilbo replied curtly, taking a large swig of his tankard. He wasn't even buzzed yet, Hamfast couldn't already be starting up.

"Uh huh. You just sounded a bit snippy."

"No, I didn't. Just hush. Drink your ale." Hamfast snickered into his drink, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face.

"So, what's he like? Am I going to have to plant more roses in your yard so he'll have something to get you when he comes around?" Bilbo rolled his eyes and gulped down the rest of his tankard, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"It's not like that. We're just friends _."_

_"_ Are you? Hm, last I saw you were blushing redder than those tomatoes you won for." Bilbo huffed and sent a look at his childhood friend, who seemed to be already halfway to his desired drunkness. Well, at least someone was.

"Now you're just trying to get my goat."

"You don't have a goat."

"Exactly, so all this teasing has not point!" Bilbo stood up with a glare, which did little to put a damper on his friend's jovial smile. Bilbo rolled his eyes and walked off, Hamfast's chuckles following him as he went off. As Bilbo was refilling his tankard, someone grabbed his arm, causing him to jolt back in surprise.

"Bofur! Oh, you scared me!" Bilbo laughed, looking up at his friend. Bofur grinned as he glanced down at the drink, then pointed to where the rest of the company was.

"Drinking contest, remember? Let's go." Bilbo sighed but let himself be dragged off anyways, rolling his eyes.

"Oh pity, I was hoping to get drunk before all of this so I would be oblivious to you lots' collective stubbornness."

"You get snarky when you drink, huh Bilbo?" Bofur asked with a grin. The company cheered when he approached and a group of hobbits had already gathered as well, watching him with skeptic looks.

"Mister Kíli says it's just you against all of them, is that right? Do you need a teammate?" Otho asked, and Bilbo simply patted his cousin's shoulder.

"Fíli and Kíli will most likely be dead by the end of this, and I'd rather not drag you down with them again." Bilbo's statement was met with twin spluttering by the brothers and Bilbo grinned as he sat down at the table, ready so start.

"So, the rules?"

"Whoever drinks the most wins." Dwalin said with an eyebrow raised. "What other rules would there be?"

"Well--"

"Don't care." He said simply. "Let's get this going!" The company banged their palms on the table top as they roared with excitement, hands going to the tankards as soon as it was placed in front of them. Bilbo noted that Thorin wasn't joining them, simply standing off and watching the even with what Bilbo thought was a mixture of interest and amusement. He caught the dwarf's eye and smiled as Otho shouted for them to start. Then Bilbo grabbed his tankard and chugged. 

* * *

Bilbo stared lazily at Thorin over the rim of his cup, watching as the dwarf went to town on the...5th? 10th round? Bilbo had lost count quite a while ago, probably around when Dwalin finally fell out of his seat. Thorin had stepped in, apparently been drinking along in time with all of them off to the side. Now it was just them, and Bilbo's head was deliciously fuzzy as he grinned and slammed down his tankard.

"You gonna quit?" Bilbo asked, his words slurring. Thorin finished off his round and grinned, ale trickling down his face and beard.

"Dunno, are you?" Bilbo shook his head and Thorin laughed, tucking his face into the crook of his elbow. Bilbo snickered and reached his leg out, foot brushing over Thorin's leg. The dwarf stilled for a moment, before breaking into a fit of giggles and gesturing for another round.

"Well, _I'm_ tired!" Thorin declared, making Bilbo snort and laugh as he gestured for one too. "So let's call it quits!"

"Nuh uh." Bilbo said, wagging a hand. "I'm gonna finish this, and have another, and then another, and I'll be the winner. So, ha!"

Thorin gave a great big sigh, and reached out to touch Bilbo's hand, resting his chin on his own arm. "Well, at least I lost to you."

Bilbo, who had been in the middle of taking a drink spluttered on it, coughing hard. "S-So you quit? Really?"

"Yes, Bilbo." Thorin moved away from the table and stood shakily. "I quit, Bilbo wins! He eats like an army and holds his drink better than his cup!"

The hobbits who had drunk themselves silly but still stood by to watch the contest cheered loudly, rousing most of the dwarves who had all but passed out. Dwalin was the most alert, staggering as he stood up and began to say something to Thorin. Bilbo grabbed his tankard and slipped away, finding Hamfast talking to the rude hobbit from earlier Or maybe he was talking to him, since the gardener looked quite furious.

"Did you hear?" Bilbo said with a grin, stumbling slightly as he grabbed his friend's shoulder. "I won!"

"Against that heinous dwarf?" The hobbit spat. "Hmph, I knew they were weak."

Hamfast raised a hand, looking quite ready to punch him. The gardener became awfully protective when he drank, taking offense and being quick to act on it. Bilbo simply squeezed his shoulder and straightened a bit.

"I'm quite drunk, so you're not gonna listen." Bilbo told him. "But let me tell you! Those dwarves are the best folk I've ever met!"

"You sound just like your dirty Took of a mother. That's what got her and Bungo killed, you know!" The hobbit gave an ugly smile, and Hamfast nearly leapt on him. But Bilbo simply shook his head.

"You know, I'm too drunk to be hurt!" Bilbo said with a laugh. "I've just won a drinking contest, I don't even know you're name, I don't care!" Bilbo led Hamfast away, laughing as he did. The gardener stopped suddenly and grabbed Bilbo's shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"Are you just going to let him say that?! Aren't you bothered?!"

"I'm very bothered, actually." Bilbo said solemnly. "He didn't even seemed buzzed!"

Hamfast groaned and put his head on Bilbo's shoulder, shaking as Bilbo laughed. He rose again to say something, but was stopped when there came a huge crash nearby. They both whipped around to find quite a scene in front of them.

Thorin and Dwalin were on the ground, rolling about and appearing to be fighting. Thorin was saying something to Dwalin when suddenly the bald dwarf raised his hand and punched Thorin square in the nose. In retrospect, Bilbo should've been more concerned, but all he could do was nudge Hamfast and ask wryly, "Who do you think will win?"

After Thorin had finally threw a punch into Dwalin's eye, Bilbo stepped in, calling their names and trying to separate them. He finally grabbed Thorin's arm and yanked him back, sending the both of them sprawling to the ground. Thorin was on top of Bilbo, shockingly close and even with blood trickling down his nose and chin, Bilbo still found him alarmingly beautiful. It took a moment before Thorin moved back, going to wipe his nose and wincing. Bilbo laughed and looked past him, seeing Dwalin being helped up by Balin and Ori.

"Sorry, that wasn't good, eh?" Thorin mumbled and Bilbo nodded.

"You'll be the talk of the Shire for a few days. Good job!" Thorin gave a groan and laid his head down on Bilbo's shoulder. He was getting blood on Bilbo's shirt, but the hobbit couldn't bring himself to care. Hamfast tapped Bilbo's shoulder.

"It's almost halfway to next morning. Get going."

"Yes, Ma." Bilbo said, snickering. Hamfast rolled his eyes but helped both Thorin and Bilbo to their feet, giving the dwarf a hesitant pat. Walking was a bit of challenge, as Thorin was ridiculously heavy and Bilbo could barely walk straight. Balin and Ori followed not far behind with Dwalin, all of them seeming to be as drunk as Bilbo himself. Oh, they were going to have the  _worst_  headaches tomorrow. 

The walk to Bag End was treacherous, Bilbo and Thorin stumbling more often then not. They didn't fall at any point, which was a definite win in Bilbo's book. Thorin was delightful, snorting and laughing as they swayed and walked, more open now then Bilbo had ever known him to be. Not that he'd known him all that long in all actuality, but it sure felt like it. They finally reached the door, opened it and like Thorin had mentioned on the way back, the company had decided to spend the night at Bilbo's. Their boots were scattered near the coat hooks and there was mud on the floor, but Bilbo was in too good of a mood to care. He waited until Dwalin, Balin and Ori were inside before closing the door, laughing as he watched them struggle to take off their boots. They wished him a goodnight in a chorus of slurred voices and went off to bed, leaving Thorin and Bilbo out in the foyer. He looked over at the dwarf and found himself smiling again. Thorin looked like a mess really, face flushed and nose already bruising. His hair was a wild, askew mess and his gaze glassy, but he still looked positively  _hot_. Bilbo told himself that there was nothing wrong with admitting that your friend was as such, and his alcohol addled mind agreed readily.

"Are you still tired?" Bilbo asked, leaning against the wall to steady himself from where he swayed on the spot. Thorin grinned and nodded, making Bilbo snigger.

"Cmon, we gotta go to bed." Bilbo told him, grabbing his arm and Thorin raised an eyebrow with a dopey smile.

'Oh, you're going to bed with me?" They both broke into a fit of giggles as they went off towards the bedrooms, Bilbo leaning into Thorin. He was like a furnace, no, like a forge!

"I just thought of a joke." Bilbo said and Thorin grinned.

"Tell me."

"You're like a forge. Get it, cause you're warm and you're a smith?"

"That's not even a joke." Thorin said, even as he laughed again. Bilbo grinned and pinched him.

"They why are you laughing?!"

"'Cause you're funny." Thorin looked down at Bilbo and smiled, making the hobbit smile back. Thorin opened the door to the room he had decided to stay in, still right next to Bilbo's.

"G'night, Bilbo." He said and Bilbo laughed as he entered his own room.

"It's actually morning, but same to you." Thorin chuckled at that, a low sound that made Bilbo's body heat. He closed his door and tried to unbutton his waistcoat, his fingers fumbling as they worked at it. A loud bang of someone tripping and falling came from Thorin's room and Bilbo threw his head back and laughed aloud as he finally slid out of his waistcoat. Thorin said something indistinct and Bilbo simply nodded as he climbed into bed, not bothering with trying to change the rest of his clothes. He burrowed under the blankets with a sigh, burying his face in the pillow and soon, falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a long note here
> 
> so for ages here, i'm making everyone around 10 years younger than they would've been at the start of the quest. also, ages for a lot of the characters aren't given, or they are and the age gap is far too large to make a lot of sense in my opinion (for example, otho was 20 years younger than bilbo in the hobbit, and lobelia was even younger, which would've made them both not of age, and i can't really see hobbits are the type of people to marry before they reach maturity) 
> 
> so hobbits like otho, lobelia, and hamfast are all around the same age as bilbo in this, which puts them all at their late 40's. if exact ages are needed for whatever reason, i have them and will give them out uvu
> 
> also, i've written bungo and belladonna' deaths a bit earlier than they are in canon. they died in TA 2926 and TA 2934 respectively. more details will be added in regard to this in the next chapter
> 
> (also gandalf totally used some of his magic somehow to make sure the old took was up and running at the age of 130 and you can't tell me otherwise)


	7. Chapter 7

Thorin was dead. Completely, irreversibly dead. Never again would he touch ale, never again would he so much as  _look_  at it. At least the voice talking go him was soothing. One of his ancestors of long past, here to wake him in his Maker's halls? Odd though, the voice sounded a lot like Bilbo's.

"It is me, you dope." Thorin shook his head and buried his face in his pillow, groaning and wincing. A sense of reality came flooding back to him as Bilbo laughed slightly. Thorin became more aware of the feeling of the soft quilt beneath him, the warmth of the summer air against his bare back, the delicious scent of Bilbo's home, and first and foremost, his headache that threatened to split his skull in two.

"Am I dead?"

"I rather hope not."

"It feels as though Mahal's hammers are reforging my existence."

"I frankly have no clue what you're talking about, but I appreciate that you're actually speaking clearly now." Thorin moved his head and finally dared to open his eyes, squinting at the room and the figure in front of him. The hobbit was kneeling at the side of the bed, his elbows propped up on the mattress's edge. His vision was still swimming a bit and Bilbo looked rather hazy, but it was definitely him. So, not dead then. Unless they'd both drank themselves to death. That would've been a shame.

"My head feels as though someone has beaten it." Thorin muttered and Bilbo smiled sympathetically, hand going out to pat his.His skin was cool against Thorin's, almost cold, and Thorin was seized by the urge to grab his hand and hold it as tight as his as weakened strength would allow. He didn't however, far too weary to even try and move his body.

"That's what you get for trying to outdrink me."

"Stop being chipper. It's disgusting." Bilbo laughed quietly, his voice very soft. Thorin reasoned that he must know how to take care of the sick, and was very grateful for that. "How do the rest fare?"

Bilbo smiled crookedly, obviously incredibly amused. "Not too well. Fíli and Kíli are still asleep, though I suspect they'll be awfully sick when they wake. Dwalin and you are the best of the bunch, I must say."

"We have the strongest stomachs." Thorin told him and Bilbo scoffed.

"I think you're both just the most stubborn. The ale can't win against that."

"It is winning now and I regret my entire life leading up to this point."

"Oh, you poor baby." Bilbo said, but still smiled gently. This was nice in a way, besides the fatigue and the headache and slight feeling of being vaguely nauseous. It was just him and Bilbo, Bag End was quiet, the curtains were drawn and the hobbit was talking in such a soft, lovely tone that Thorin found himself smiling a tad. Bilbo propped his arms and head up on the bed and grinned at Thorin.

"Going to stay in bed all day?" He asked jokingly. Thorin rolled his eyes, then regretted the gesture the next second. This  _bloody_  headache!

"Yes." Thorin replied, completely serious. He didn't think he would be able to move for another day or century without actually dying. Hobbits and their brews were not things to be reckoned with. Bilbo laughed quietly and patted his hand again.

"Do you need anything? Water? A bucket? A new and unshattered ego like the rest of your friends?"

"You're enjoying this far too much." Thorin told him glumly, and Bilbo nodded happily.

"Probably. But that's what you all get for challenging me." He said in a sing song voice. Bilbo finally stood from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. "Holler if you need me. Or maybe don't, the others might kill you for being too loud." Bilbo snickered and Thorin couldn't help himself as he smiled a bit more, watching as Bilbo disappeared out through the door. Thorin rolled onto his side soon after and groaned, stomach churning. His hand went up to rub at his face and he nearly cried out in pain when he touched his nose. He paused in bewilderment before the cause of it came floating back into his mind.

 _Dwalin laughed as he grabbed_ _Thorin's_ _shoulder, grinning. "That was absolute_ _shit_ _."_

 _Thorin shoved his arm off. "No, it was great. He smiled." Thorin declared proudly, taking a swig of his tankard. Dwalin_ _laughed_ _and pushed at_ _Thorin's_ _shoulder._

 _"_ _Yeah, sure. Even Bofur has better lines!"_ _Thorin's good mood wavered at the mention of that dwarf and he sipped glumly at his drink._

_"Shut it, Dwalin."_

_"I'm bein' serious y'know. You gotta try somethin' else, 'cause actin' like some baby isn't gonna get ya nowhere,"_

_"I'm not actin' like a baby. Bofur is just a hobbit thief." Dwalin laughed at that and jostled Thorin's shoulder._

_"He wouldn't steal nothin' that's already claimed! You're just being a whiny little dwarflin'!"_

_"I am not!"_

_"Bofur is about as smooth as tree bark." Dwalin said with a snort. "If he can win the hobbit over, then you're more pathetic than I thought!"_

_"_ _Wha_ _' are you_ _sayin_ _'?"_

 _"Bofur has gotten turned down by everyone_ _he's_ _ever tried a line on." Dwalin_ _told_ _him, pausing to belch loudly. "But_ _Bilbo_ _likes em! Do ya know_ _wha_ _' that means?"_

 _Thorin_ _slammed down his cup and glared. "Say it, I dare you!"_

 _"Bilbo's gonna end up with Bofur_ _buggerin_ _' him if you keep_ _actin_ _' like some beardless whelp!"_

 _Thorin stood up_ _sharply_ _and pushed at Dwalin_ _angrily_ _. "_ _You're_   _talkin_ _' nonsense!"_

 _"_ _It_ 's _the bloody truth! All ya do is dance around him and act like ya don't know_ _nothing_ _'bout how you feel!"_

_Thorin found himself launching at his friend with a snarl and pushing the both of them onto the table and right off, falling onto the ground as the table tipped onto its side._

_Dwalin and Thorin_ _rolled around_ _, both growling_ _expletives_ _at the other as they resorted to more hurtful_ _tactics_ _. Thorin gave Dwalin a rather_ _impressive_ _headbutt when he had been pinned down and rolled them over, punching the dwarf in the face. Dwalin groaned and_ _Thorin_ _let his guard down for a moment, allowing the other to land an_ _uppercut_ _square on his nose. Thorin_ _wouldn't_ _admit to it, but he was fairly sure he could see the_ _figure_ _of_ _Mahal_ _in the aftershock of the hit._

Ah, right.  _That._

Thorin sighed and rubbed his temples. He really hadn't planned for hobbit brews to be that strong. He  _really_ hadn't planned to drink that much either, only enough to keep up the contest on case he needed to step in. Punching Dwalin was definitely something he'd accounted for however, but under different circumstances most likely. Thorin didn't understand why he'd gotten so riled over his friend's comments. Bofur and Bilbo got along extremely well, it was very plausible that they might enter a relationship before they left the Shire. He'd seen them the previous day, Bofur's arm around Bilbo's shoulder and Bilbo slipping his right around the dwarf's waist. Thorin had felt an ugly, jealous rage flare up and he had suddenly wanted nothing more than to rip them away from each other and be the one at Bilbo's side.

Thorin knew it was foolish. He knew he was being stupid by letting himself have those thoughts, he knew how selfish it was. This trip had been one of the utmost importance, not one for him to start cooing over some hobbit. But he couldn't help himself. He had experienced the longing for his One in only quick flashes, something that flickered by as he laid awake in bed at night. He wished and he craved for the feeling that was supposed to be felt when you finally met your One, something he had only seen others experience. He'd heard the stories from his mother and father, then watched as it happened to Dís, Dwalin, and Thorin was sure he had seen the start of it in Frerin before he left. He was fiercely jealous sometimes, wanting to be happy with someone the way they were. That must've been it then, he was simply thinking about it to the point where he began to envision it with someone who was no more than a fluttering interest.

Besides, they weren't even going to spend long enough in the Shire for anything to even happen. It was nearly the middle of September according to the calender hobbits used, which also put Durin's Day a little over a month away. The trip home would take a week at most, and even that was with extreme difficulties. Four days was more likely, giving them over three weeks left.

Just three weeks. Thorin swallowed and looked around the room, eyes tracing the incredible craftsmanship of the wood, from the designs on the trim to the delicately rounded walls. His tunic was no longer on the floor, instead folded neatly on the table next to the bed. Ah, Bilbo must've taken it before to have it washed. That was nice of him.

Thorin sighed and rubbed his eyes, carefully avoiding his nose. Everything about Bilbo was nice. He was a feisty little creature, with a will as strong as his own. It was undeniably enchanting. But what was Thorin besides a blacksmith? Someone who had forced their family out of their home in Erebor out of fear? They were never in danger, not  _directly_ , and yet he'd made them leave. They'd lost their home and their family from such a move. He was selfish, he was uncaring. That sort of thing would never fit with Bilbo.

Yet, he couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like to run his fingers through Bilbo's curls, to braid his hair and add a bead to it. If he were to wrap his arm around Bilbo would the hobbit do the same to him or simply melt into the embrace? Thorin growled low in his throat, furious at his own mind for antagonizing him. He simply missed the contact of another person and this was his way of dealing with it. Setting his sights on a perfect little hobbit and letting his mind run free with deluded fantasies. Even if what he was feeling was more than that, which it  _wasn't,_ Bilbo would hardly give in a second look. He was too tall, too strong, too foreign. At least  _Bofur_  was closer in size and build to Bilbo. They fit together so well that Thorin's chest  _ached_  with a clawing sensation that he wanted to smash down. It wasn't fair, not one bit.

Testing his limits, Thorin slowly sat up and groaned as his head pounded and his stomach churned. As much as laying back down seemed like a good choice, he was rather thirsty and didn't think he had it in him to call for Bilbo. His head was a mess as it was, trying to be loud would only make it worse.

On shaky legs, Thorin rose off the bed and clutched his head in one hand. He grabbed his tunic and groaned miserably as he pulled it on, nearly getting sick because of the movements. He blinked hard as he shuffled to the door, which Bilbo had left ajar. It gave a small creak as he opened it and Thorin resisted the urge to groan again. Bag End was eerily quiet, especially given how there was another 12 dwarves inside. Each of the doors were still slightly open and Thorin gave a peek inside the nearest one, seeing that Fíli and and Kíli were indeed still sleeping. They were sprawled on the bed together, Fíli having the blanket tugged up to his chin while Kíli had flung his away at some point. Oh, Dís was going to murder him when she found out.

He pattered off to the kitchen, hoping that Bilbo was somewhere near. As much as he disliked making people do things for him, there was no way that he was going to go outside to get a drink of water from Bilbo's well. Luckily, the hobbit was sitting in the kitchen, munching on a piece of bread with a book in front of him. Unluckily, the curtain were open, and Thorin was sure that he was going to die.

Thorin groaned loudly, startling Bilbo out of his reading. "Oh, sorry! I didn't think you would be getting up!" Bilbo apologized, hopping up to close the curtains. Thorin rubbed his head and waved a hand at Bilbo.

"No, it's alright. I'm fine." Thorin muttered, staggering over to the table. He sat down heavily, putting his head in his arms. He could hear Bilbo moving about and no doubt laughing at him for being so silly as to drink that much. Bilbo lightly tapped his shoulder and Thorin looked up to see him holding out a cup.

"Here, it'll help." Thorin took it and smelled it as Bilbo went back to sit at his end of the table. He raised a wary eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"A special drink. Coincidentally, my father couldn't hold his drink well either. My mother used to give this to him."

Thorin took a sip of the cool drink, finding a strong tomato flavor mixed with something else.  He looked up at Bilbo. "Used to?"

"Oh, yes. He died a while back." Bilbo said, smile faltering. "My mother too, actually."

"You have no siblings either, I recall." Thorin said softy, and he watched as Bilbo's expression seemed to delve into something heart achingly sad, so wrecked that it seemed nothing could fix it. It faded a few seconds later, as if Bilbo didn't want anyone to know he was sad. "How long ago did it happen?"

"16 years for my father, 8 for my mother." He replied quietly, then added nearly in a whisper, "I cannot believe it's been that long already..." Bilbo shook his head and fingered the edge of his book. Thorin sipped at his drink again.

"What happened?"

"Illness."

"For the both of them?"

"Yes." Bilbo replied, his tone turning a bit frosty. He sighed and shook his head again. "Sorry. The winter two years prior to my father's death had been awful. It snowed endlessly, it was absolutely frigid, horrible. Families everywhere ran out of food and firewood. The Brandywine River froze over too, and we had...wolves cross over it." Bilbo swallowed heavily. "He was bit by one of them and fell ill. He got better of course, but he never fully recovered. He was just gone one day. Like that." Bilbo made a vague gesture with his hand and blinked hard.

"It ruined my mother of course. She and my father had known each other since before they could walk, and when he died, she just...stopped. She died in a sense on that day I suppose. She didn't smile as much, she became closed off, she just stopped trying." Bilbo rubbed at his eyes with his hand. "I think she held on for me, in the end. She was terrified to leave her only son behind, with no one to take care of him. She finally got sick one day, and took to her bed." Bilbo sniffed and inhaled sharply. "I told her to let go. I told her I was going to be fine, that I didn't  _need_  her to stay for me." He gave a hard, humorless laugh. "How awful is that?"

Thorin reached out and laid his hand gently on Bilbo's wrist, squeezing as if to remind the hobbit that it was in the past. Bilbo exhaled shakily and covered his face. "You couldn't have done anything about it."

"Couldn't I have?" Bilbo finally looked up and his eyes shone bright with tears, his cheeks splotched with color. "At the festival last night, someone told me it was my mother's sense of adventure that got her killed. What if it wasn't the wolf that made my father sick, what if it was something that he'd picked up on his travels?" Thorin watched as Bilbo bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his gathering tears.

"Bilbo, you don't--"

"I kept on telling her that  _I_ wanted to see the elves, that  _I_ wanted to go on an adventure." Bilbo clenched his fists and looked down at the table, scrunching his eyes shut. "Thorin, what if I caused their deaths?"

"You didn't, Bilbo. You had no hand in it." Thorin insisted, giving his wrist another squeeze. Bilbo shook his head, and dug his free hand into his curls, ruffling the already messy hair. 

"But I did. He must've gotten sick because I was always urging them out, and wanting to go further and camp more, and I just..." Bilbo trailed off for a moment as he lowered his hand, eyes meeting Thorin's once more.

"It's my fault, isn't it? He's dead because of me."

Thorin reached out and grabbed Bilbo's hands, holding them tightly. "Had your father and mother gone off on travels before you were born? What if he'd caught something then? It is not your fault."  Bilbo shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Thorin cut him off. "Death is an ugly thing, but you mustn't let yourself think you're the one who caused it. You are not to blame."

Bilbo shook his head and clutched Thorin's hands. "How do you know? How can you possibly know?"

"My mother and father passed long ago. I know how it feels to lose the ones you love." Bilbo looked up at Thorin sharply, his tears now brimming and prepared to fall if he so much as blinked.

"Oh, Thorin, I'm sorry. I'm here complaining and whining and you've lost--"

"My loss does not make yours any less important." Thorin told him firmly. "I have a brother and a sister who were there beside me when it happened, and they reminded me day after day that it was not my fault. I felt that because I was oldest, I was supposed to look out for everyone and give myself before any harm could come to them. I knew that it wasn't true, but in the throes of my grief I didn't allow myself to believe anything else. Bilbo, you are not to blame, and if we could as your mother and father for their opinion, you know as well as I do that they would agree!"

In that moment, the dam broke, and Thorin watching with an aching heart as Bilbo finally cried, tears rolling down his face and a wrenching sob being torn from his mouth. He was moving before he knew it, body overcome with vertigo and nearly making him fall. Thorin grabbed Bilbo's shoulder and turned him towards him, then wrapped the hobbit in a bone crushing hug. Bilbo was startled for a moment, before he dissolved into body wracking sobs and clutched at Thorin as if he were the only thing keeping him tethered here.

Thorin felt as though his heart was breaking, being shattered as a hammer attacked it. It almost hurt him physically to see Bilbo this upset, with tears soaking his face and his breathing becoming a shuddering mess. He had thought Bilbo to be such a jovial little soul, untouched by any of life's evils. But here he was, still blaming himself for something he had no part in 16 years later, only seeming to release the built up tension now. It was like an arrow to the chest, thinking about a younger Bilbo, left alone in the enormous structure that is Bag End after his mother had died. Did he have friends or other family that came by to check on him? Bilbo being alone each day was now infinitely sadder, as everything clicked into place.

"I'm so sorry, I-I've messed up your tunic." Bilbo said quietly, his tears finally abating. Thorin suddenly felt out of place, like what he had just witnessed was something he didn't deserve to. He simply nodded and pulled away, looking at Bilbo once more. His face was flushed, his eyes rimmed with red, and his curls in a state of disarray, but Thorin still found only one word coming to mind.

_Beautiful._

Thorin took his seat at the other end of the table, hands occupying themselves with the cup again. His headache had subsided a bit, but he still felt like he'd gone a hundred rounds with a warg. He really was quite awful at things following the heat of the moment, and when it was something as deeply personal as losing, someone, he was at a loss of what to do. Thankfully, Bilbo simply sniffed and wiped at his face with his handkerchief, then gave a watery smile to Thorin.

"It gets better, doesn't it?" He asked, and Thorin inclined his head.

"What does?"

"The feeling that you have. You know, it's just...empty. Like you're missing something. It heals, right?"

Thorin found himself nodding slowly, as if he was finally accepting that as well. He realized that it really did get better, through the help of time and friends. If he hadn't had Frerin and Dis after their parents died, Thorin doubted he would've been able to recover. And over time, he got used to not hearing his father snoring, or his mother's singing. He learned how to live without her cooking and how to use the sword his father had always had, kept hidden for his eyes only. He remembered the lessons that his grandfather had taught him, and made sure to use them, and like a wound, the jagged hole left by their deaths fixed itself. Erebor had torn it open again and threatened to ruin him, but he wasn't alone. The company was there for him, they had made sure he stayed in one piece and still functioned. Time eased the ache, and those close to you soothed what remained.

"Yes, it gets better." He said to Bilbo. 

 _You helped make it better,_ was what he didn't say. 

* * *

Bilbo had eventually got up to go check on everyone, Thorin tagging along. Dwalin wasn't doing all that bad, but he resigned himself to bed nonetheless, seeing as how Ori was on the brink of a liquor induced death. He had helped Bilbo with the light meals he'd prepared, giving them out along with the drink he'd given Thorin. While Dwalin teased Thorin over his bruised mess of a nose--ignoring his own black eye of course-- Bilbo scampered off to tend to Fíli and Kíli. They had gotten sick, just as Bilbo had predicted, but it appeared that Bilbo was more than capable of handling it. Thorin shuffled down to the room they'd passed out in and looked in through the slightly open door, watching them interact. Bilbo was currently fussing over Kíli, leaving Fíli open to Thorin's view. There was no doubt about it, Dís was going to kill him.

He looked  _horrible_  and even though it had been his own fault, he still felt rather bad. After all, he technically was supposed to their caregivers. Then again, he'd gotten terrifically drunk as well, so he couldn't really be held liable.

His face was rather pale and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead in limp strands. Thorin realized that they had never really drank a lot before, and what they did Dís had watered down. She was fiercely protective of her kids, and in the moment, Thorin was exponentially glad that she had stayed behind. If  _anyone_ ever told her how sick they ended up, Thorin could kiss his head--and a few other unmentionables--goodbye.

Kíli groaned something and Bilbo laughed as quietly as he could, putting a hand over his mouth. Thorin leaned against the doorway and watched with a slight smile as Bilbo whispered to them and offered the food and drink he'd brought, then sighed sympathetically. He reached out and brushed some of the hair out of Kíli's face with such a tender look that Thorin's stomach clenched and his chest ached. He was struck by a thought of how well Bilbo fit in with them, he a unexpectedly lonely hobbit with a knack for adventure it seemed, and they nothing but simple merchants and artisans. It was a dangerous thought indeed, but Thorin still did nothing to silence it.

"Uncle, close the door!" Fíli whined suddenly. "I swear, I can see the light of Mahal's fires here to light the forge and kill me!"

Bilbo was unable to silence his laughter this time, being rather loud and drawing a protesting groan from the boys, then a few of the company down the hall. In all honesty, Thorin did not grin. But there was certainly a flicker of it, and Bilbo definitely caught it. Thorin found that he rather liked it that way. 

* * *

The company all managed to drag themselves into the kitchen when dinner rolled around, looking utterly wrecked and exhausted. Fíli and Kíli were dead on their feet, practically falling asleep at the table the many times they had put their head on the table. It was a quiet affair over all, with no food throwing, no dishes rolling, just sick, groaning dwarves and the smell of bread and soup. Thorin was feeling a bit better, his headache dulling to a minor throbbing and his stomach settling more and more as the night progressed. He thought about their supplies back at camp, their packs and gear just sitting out there in the open. It wasn't as though he thought some wandering hobbit would take anything, but weren't there Rangers who roamed these parts as well? Men could be greedy, selfish creatures, and Thorin loathed the notion of their things being pillaged by such folk. He brought it up to Bilbo, who only scoffed and shook his head.

"It'll be fine. Those Rangers patrol the perimeter of the Shire only, and you're quite a ways from there. The most trouble you'll face is a case of sticky fingers by some fauntling. Though, I doubt any of them would dare go that close to your camp. Word of Dwalin and you throwing punches got out." Thorin groaned and rubbed at his temples. Oh, he didn't want to even talk about that with Bilbo. "Why did you punch him anyway?"

Bugger.

Thorin sent a quick glance over to Dwalin who merely shrugged. He didn't seem to be concerned with Bilbo finding out, but then again, he was Dwalin and only cared about the consequences others had to suffer through for his actions if it came back to bite him. Thorin sighed.

"It was nothing, most likely. I cannot remember why it even happened, in all honesty." Bilbo tsked and pursed his lips.

"Well, someone will remember eventually and when they do, I'd quite like to hear the story. You've both got spectacular bruises from it." Ori gave Thorin a dirty look from where he sat next to Dwalin, rather ticked to see that his One had another mark of his foolishness. Thorin sent one right back to him, and set his head in his arms. Dinner finished up after that, and as Bilbo mockingly mentioned having a large drink soon, the company all groaned in distaste and shuffled back to their rooms. Thorin remained, perfectly content to sit in the warm kitchen and listen to the small fire pop and crackle. Bilbo took the plates and began to wash up, sending glances back in Thorin's direction every few minutes.

"Thank you...for earlier." Bilbo said quietly, jolting Thorin from the light snooze he had begun to drift into. The dwarf merely shrugged.

"It is the least I could do. You've treated us as though we were family, something we will never be able to really thank you for." Thorin's mouth twitched slightly, a smile wishing to show. "I...may not be the best with words, but I am a good listener. Using such a skill does not require thanks."

Bilbo laughed slightly, picking up a dish towel and drying the bowl in his hand. "Yes, alright. It doesn't require it, but I'll still be giving them no matter what. You've all done plenty for me as well, something I'm incredibly grateful for. I'd love to repay you, but I have the feeling that will be quite difficult, hm?"

Thorin smiled then, even if it was quite a small one and nodded. "Very difficult indeed. You will not be able to find anything to repay us with."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, his expression turning knowing. "Not even some help with your nose? I'd imagine it hurts quite a bit." He set down the dish towel and walked over to the chair where Thorin was sitting and began to inspect his nose.

"If I help you out with this mess, can we call it even?" Bilbo asked, making Thorin roll his eyes. It wasn't  _that_ bad.

"You will not let it go if I were to refuse, would you?" 

"Not a chance." The hobbit replied firmly. Thorin sighed and waved a hand.

"Do your worst." Bilbo gave him a smile as he went off to fetch something, leaving Thorin to sit at the table. His fingers drummed against the cup of water Bilbo had given him earlier, its surface cool. He didn't know why Bilbo still insisted upon trying to give back to them, when he was the one who deserved something. The gardening tool Thorin had given him was not enough, and would never compare to how much Bilbo had given them already. Thorin couldn't even begin to think of a way to repay Bilbo, especially not within the three weeks they had left.

"Here we are." Bilbo pattered back into the room, now carrying a few items in his hands. He laid them on the table and gestured at Thorin to turn towards him. Bilbo sat with a leg on either side of the bench as Thorin leaned forward slightly, glancing over at what he'd brought in.

"It's some salves I made with the herbs and plants I bought from Oín." He told him, taking a small jar and unscrewing the cap. Thorin winced and hissed when Bilbo began to apply it, the coolness harsh against his bruised nose.

"Sorry, sorry. It'll help though." Bilbo told him, putting the salve on his nose with the utmost care. He used two fingers to smooth it over the sore skin, brows furrowed in concentration. He didn't seem to notice Thorin watching him, soaking up each detail about him, from his dark eyelashes despite his light hair, to his eyes, the irises a color he could not name.

"What herbs is it made from?" Thorin rumbled, the earthy scent permeating his senses. Bilbo put down the jar he had just used and replaced it with the second one, glancing up at him.

"The one I just used has lavender and something Oín called  _dumûnugûng_?" Bilbo tripped over the word a bit, but said it clearly enough for Thorin to wonder if he had practiced saying it before coming back in. "I haven't a clue what it means, but he explained its properties and that's all that really matters." Bilbo said. "It helps with bruising, by the way. And this one, is plantain leaves and Durin's  _Khulb_ , which helps with swelling."

"Do you know what that means?" Thorin asked, and Bilbo slowly nodded.

"I think. It means root, correct? It  _looked_  like a root, so I'm only guessing really."

"No, you're correct." Thorin told him, smiling slightly. "Also,  _dumûnugûng_ means blood flowers. It speaks of--"

"The shade of the petals." Bilbo finished, flushing slightly as he realized that he had cut Thorin off. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Thorin told him, and they lapsed back into silence as Bilbo rubbed a bit more salve around his nose. The skin still felt tender to the touch, but it no longer throbbed each time he breathed in. Bilbo finished soon after, smoothing a bandage over the bridge of his nose and if the hobbit's hand lingered, Thorin didn't notice. The dwarf exhaled as Bilbo finally moved away, gathering his supplies and walking off to put them away. Thorin swallowed heavily, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. His hand came up to rest over it, fingers digging into the fabric of his tunic. There was an odd ache in his chest, one that was spreading to fill his whole body as if he was missing something that he needed to _live_. The feeling was foreign, and it terrified Thorin. He didn't know what it was exactly, but the notion his mind was pushing forward seemed to fit the bill.

Thorin found that even more terrifying then the feeling itself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thorin is going to realize something pretty soon...
> 
> i played around with the names of the plants used for the salves a bit in this, Durin's Khalb is actually the roots of St. John's Wort, and dumûnugûng is yarrow flowers, which can be a deep red color  
> also, i start school in less than a month so updates might get a little wacky since i still have three summer projects to do (which i haven't even started)


	8. Chapter 8

Truthfully, Bilbo had come to dislike his birthday.

He knew that it was supposed to be a fun time, where he had everyone over, drank a lot, gave out presents and spent time with family he might not of fully liked. That's how he used to do it, but since his mother's death, he hadn't felt up to it each year. Instead, he invited the Gamgees over for dinner, and then he and Hamfast delved into Bilbo's assortment of liquor and the gardener comforted his friend on the years when being without his parents got to be too much. More often then not, Bilbo didn't allow himself to ruin the occasion in such a way and kept it bottled up until his friend lumbered down Bagshot Row and Bilbo was left alone once more.

Which was exactly why he was dreading the company finding out about his birthday.

Not because he didn't want to celebrate it with them, but simply because he preferred to be left alone by the end of the night, thank you very much. They had a terrible amount of stamina, and Bilbo was honestly unsure how he would fare this year. Breaking down in front of Thorin had been one thing he  _never_ wanted to do, yet he did so and was rightly pushed back into rational thinking by the dwarf. It had been a wonderful release for him, as he had told no one, not even Hamfast, of the blame he put upon himself. He had carried those thoughts with him for a long time, and finally venting them was like having a weight taken off his chest.

But after having such a weight be lifted, frankly, he didn't know what to do. The company had left Bag End the next day, still a bit sick, but mostly able to manage. Thorin looked at him differently, in Bilbo's opinion, though perhaps he was just being paranoid. He had this new sort of softness in his eyes, even if his posture seemed a bit tenser than before. Bilbo had wracked his mind trying to figure out what emotion Thorin was showing exactly, but he found he couldn't think of it. Confounded dwarves and their difficulty.

Or maybe, it was just Bilbo himself. He would be lying if he said that his  _regard_  for Thorin hadn't taken a rather large leap in the past few days, with the eve after the festival being the most significant. His heart had pounded so fiercely in his chest as he tended to Thorin's nose, eyes carefully focused on the spot instead of oh, perhaps his lips or his eyes or any other part of Thorin that Bilbo adored. He was such a fool honestly, but what he could he do? He couldn't just  _make_  what he was feeling go away. He practically saw the dwarf everyday, which only made things worse. Bilbo worried that somehow Thorin knew, and that's why he looked at him so differently. The softness in his eyes indicated pity, but the stiffness told of rejection. It was an awful thought, Bilbo had to face the facts. He was a  _hobbit._ Thorin would never look at him in that way.

Such things be damned, Bilbo wouldn't stop being a friend to him, and all the company.  He still continued with his daily visits, usually coming around at lunch to try and eat with them. Keyword  _try_ , as they usually stole more of Bilbo's lunch than the poor hobbit could eat. Nevertheless, he hardly scolded them as much as he should and took note to bring their favorite foods each time.

It was on one such occasion, a mere two days from Bilbo's birthday when his secret got out and left the hobbit cursing for the rest of the day.

He'd just finished up lunch with the company and sat around chatting when a hobbit approached him. It was his cousin Otho, husband to the wicked as ever Lobelia. He gave Bilbo a smile that barely reached his eyes and Bilbo could only dread what kind of errand she'd sent him on now.

"Sorry to interrupt, but might I steal my cousin for a moment?" He asked, giving them a polite smile. Otho was hardly like Lobelia, and his reason for marrying her still made no sense in the mind of Bilbo. Sure, he loved her in the way one does with a childhood friend, but to  _marry_  her? Bilbo would rather live with only one meal a day and not a coin to his name.

Kíli looked rather ticked at having his story interrupted and pouted as Bilbo stood, leading Otho a bit away.

"What does she want now?" Bilbo groaned. Otho flushed a bit, knowing what others tended to think of Lobelia. "Is it about my birthday?"

"How'd you know?"

"She does this  _every_  year." Otho rubbed at his neck sheepishly and nodded.

"You're not having a party, are you? I mean, I get why you don't, but maybe you'd feel better if--"

"Maybe I'd feel better if I surrounded myself with people, yes I know!" Bilbo snapped, annoyed to hear the same yearly drivel from his cousin. "Otho, it's been 8 years and I understand that you want to help, but it's not the same."

"But Bilbo--"

"I'll send the presents along, don't worry." Bilbo sighed and rubbed his eyes. "If you'd lost Lobelia, would you want to celebrate? Eight years isn't that long of a time." 

"No. No, I wouldn't." Otho said quietly, then looked at Bilbo inquisitively. "You're talking about it easier though."

"Yes well," Bilbo flushed a bit. "I've... I've gotten better. Now, off with you please, I was in the middle of another conversation."

"Yes, sorry. Afternoon, cousin." Otho gave him a smile as he turned and walked off. Bilbo sighed and turned back, then very nearly collided with someone.

"Oh, Thorin, I'm sorry!"  Bilbo flushed as he looked up the dwarf, smiling easily. Thorin sent a glance over in Otho's direction, then back to Bilbo.

"You didn't say that your birthday was near."

Oh, the Valar be damned!

"I don't really do much for it, so I saw no reason to say anything." Bilbo told him, looking over at the selection of the company he had been sitting with. They were all rather self absorbed at the moment, which Bilbo was grateful for. Thorin wasn't the type to gossip, he'd most definitely keep this between them.

Thorin frowned and crossed his arms. "A birthday is a special time, it's a shame not to celebrate."

"Ugh, you sound like my family." Bilbo shook his head when Thorin snorted.

"Perhaps they're right then? Maybe you should celebrate?"

"No, that's quite alright." At Thorin's skeptical look, Bilbo reached out to pat his arm, flushing a bit when his heart began to pound. "Honestly, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Thorin still looked unconvinced, but nodded. "When is it, if I may ask?"

"Ah, in two days." Thorin muttered something under his breath before nodding.

"I see. Yes well, good afternoon Bilbo." Thorin turned and walked back to the smithy, leaving Bilbo standing there in bewilderment. Had he said something wrong? Bilbo shook his head and went back to the dwarves, narrowly avoiding the rest of his lunch being taken. He stayed with them until lunch finished, then went home for the day as was the routine.

On the day of his birthday, everything went along normally. He received his well wishes throughout the day, the occasional inquiry about a party, and thankfully, complete ignorance from the dwarves. They'd treated him normally, without even a sign that showed they knew. It lifted Bilbo's mood wonderfully to know that he wouldn't have to fret over them.

Truthfully, Bilbo should have expected it. Thorin didn't even wish him a happy birthday, which seemed odd for someone so concerned, but Bilbo blew it off as it slipping the dwarf's mind. Of course, Thorin wasn't really the forgetful type, which Bilbo happened to overlook.

So when a knock came to his door at suppertime, Bilbo didn't think much of it. He simply excused himself from the table, told the Gamgees to dig in, and went to open it.

"Happy Birthday!" The cheer was nearly deafening, and Bilbo took a step back. The company all stood there, pushing as each other in an attempt to stay at the front. Bilbo noted that Thorin was conveniently in the back, his gaze specifically away from Bilbo.

"You have _got_ to be joking." Bilbo stared at them dumbly before shaking his head. "What are you all doing here?"

"It's your birthday." Kíli said, looking at Bilbo like he was stupid. "We've come to celebrate."

"Oh, for the love of-- get in here! Honestly, you all can't come over just out of the blue, I need  _some_  warning. Also, what if I was with someone! I'd have to send you away!"

"Are you with someone?" Dwalin asked, his voice taking an odd tone. Bilbo sighed and shook his head.

"Just a few friends. I should clout you all for springing this on me, I haven't made nearly enough food." Bilbo grumbled as they all entered, shucking off their boots instinctively. Thorin was the last in, pausing at the door as Bilbo leveled him a glare.

"If it makes it any better, we have all eaten back at camp and shouldn't put too much of a strain on what you've made."

Bilbo swatted at his arm with a huff. "I ought to make  _you_  leave! I didn't think you would tell them!"

"You didn't tell me not to." Thorin glanced over at his company where they all stood, busy tucking things into their boots while Bilbo wasn't looking. "We hadn't planned on staying either, you know. We really only came to give you our best wishes."

"Then why did Kíli say otherwise?"

"My nephew is a clot at the best of times."

"Hey!" The outraged cry drew a smile to Bilbo's face despite the annoyance he still felt. The hobbit shook his head and pulled Thorin inside, then closed the door.

"Well, I've already invited you all in, haven't I? I can't make you leave now, so just make yourselves at home. Supper is this way, and  _please_  control yourselves."

"You make us sound like we're animals." Nori grumbled, making Bilbo laugh.

"Well, if the boot fits..."

The throng of affronted dwarves followed him into the kitchen where the Gamgees sat, seeming mostly unfazed by the sudden addition. Hamson and Halfred waved excitedly, remembering the dwarves they had played with at the festival.

"Lobelia is going to throw a fit when she hears that you had a party." Bell commented, smiling at Bofur when he tipped his hat to her. Bilbo scoffed as he sat down, and gestured at the dwarves to do the same. Dwalin, Nori and Bifur went off to grab more chairs from throughout Bag End while the rest settled in.

"It's not a party. We can say that they forced their way into my home and stole our dinner."

"We wished you a happy birthday though, so at least we did it politely." Bofur commented, leaning back in his chair. Bilbo nodded as he took a bite of bread.

"Right, my mistake. They politely pillaged my home..."

Bilbo trailed off with a grin as they all laughed, and began to shuffle around to make room for the chairs brought in. Soon, they were all squeezed together and food was being passed out, making for a jovial meal. The dwarves seemed more courteous than usual, trying to avoid throwing food around or making too many lewd jokes. Bilbo figured that it must've been because of the three young children at the table, their open ears making the company very wary of how they acted. Who would've thought the key to controlling dwarves was children?

Despite having eaten like Thorin had said, the dwarves dug into the food with as much zeal as they did the first time they ate supper with him. They made sure the Gamgees had their fills first of course, minding that they were indeed, unexpected guests at a rather unexpected party. Bilbo found himself having a wonderful time, far better than he had in previous years. That wasn't to say the Gamgees were bad friends, but Bilbo felt like something finally came together once he was with the company, something he doubted his family could've really filled of they'd been here instead. It was odd really, to feel like he fit in better with dwarves than other hobbits. But then again, he was the son of a Took and Tooks weren't exactly known for being normal.

After supper turned to dinner, and dinner to desert, Hamson and Halfred were practically about to explode with all the pent up excitement they had from wanting to play with the dwarves again. It had been through Bilbo's cunning and the dwarves weakness for children that had ended up with Bofur, Dwalin and Nori on the ground getting covered in flowers, Hamson and Halfred being the leaders behind that plan. So when it was the customary time for the kids to go play with the multitude of toys, books and other items Bilbo had collected for them over time, they didn't hesitate to pull at Fíli and Kíli, though perhaps it had been Thorin who whispered to them that they were kids too.

Of course, that led to Ori being yanked away by the brothers, and where Ori went so did Dwalin, and even Nori went on willingly, under the guise of being a chaperone to Dwalin and Ori. He offered to take Daisy along with him, and assured Bell that he had practically raised Ori with minimal help from his eldest brother. Dori sent a very rude gesture his way, or so Bilbo assumed, as it sent Gloín spluttering and made him blush nearly as red as his hair.

"Amd here I was, thinking Dori was the mild one." Bilbo murmured to Thorin, who had taken a seat next to him. The dwarf chuckled and shook his head.

"Mild in disposition, perhaps. He's the strongest out of our entire company, however. He once kicked a door straight off the hinges and into the wall across the room. Needless to say, it stuck right there."

Bilbo grinned. "You're lying."

"Stretching the truth perhaps." Thorin replied mildly, making Bilbo laugh. He sent a look around the table to see Bell in a deep conversation with Bombur about cooking and smiled. She was regarded as one of the best cooks in all of the West Farthing. Hamfast didn't seem terribly put upon by the absence of his wife, simply sending the occasional hard look at Thorin.  Bilbo didn't know what to think of it really, as he'd only seen that expression when someone was being a right ass to someone the gardener cared about, and Thorin certainly wasn't being so. Bilbo simply let it be, deciding to ask him later. They all began to pass along stories of times in their youth, the dwarves most interested in hearing about Bilbo. The hobbit was grateful that Fíli and Kíli weren't close enough to hear, as he doubted they'd ever let him live down the story Hamfast was retelling about the time Bilbo tried to ride a full size horse.

"My legs were far too short for me to even dream of getting off, give me a break!" Bilbo spluttered, making everyone laugh even more. Balin wiped at his eye and shook his head.

"Oh laddie, that reminds me of one of Thorin's birthdays. It was long ago, his 60th, I believe." Hamfast looked at Thorin in surprise.

"Really? You don't look at day over 50 to me!" The dwarves all seemed to become a mix of offended and confused on Thorin's part, glancing between the hobbit and their leader.

"You think I'm but a dwarfling if so!" Thorin said, reaching up to touch his beard. "I'm not that far away from 200, Master Gamgee."

" _200?!_ " Hamfast spluttered. "Bilbo here just reached 40 today!"

The silence that descended over the table was a completely dumbfounded one, with all the company, with the exception of Balin staring at Bilbo like he'd grown a second head. "What, have I got something on my face?"

'You're only 40?" Thorin seemed to croak, his eyes wide. Bilbo nodded slowly.

"Yes, as we've already established. Hobbits don't live as long as dwarves you know. My grandfather has reached 130 this year and he's the oldest hobbit to even live. Gracious, I'd be lucky if I even made it to 100!" Thorin looked over at Balin for confirmation, and grey haired dwarf gave a nod.

"Such a short life, compared to us." He said. "At least most of you live longer than Men!" His comment seemed to puff some of the good cheer back into the dwarves, who stopped looking like they'd committed some great crime. Bilbo laughed and nodded.

"Indeed! And oh, by the Valar, stop looking at me like that! I'm quite nearly middle aged for a hobbit, so stop looking at me as though I'm a child." He sent a look at Thorin, who still seemed as though he hadn't regained his wits.

"My apologies, but even Fíli and Kíli are only a bit over 60. You're...quite young by our standards." Thorin said, clearing his throat and looking as though he was trying to come to terms with something far heavier than Bilbo's age. The hobbit scoffed and shook his head.

"Age is just a number. Maturity however, is what you'd better be looking out for. I'm quite a bit more so than your nephews, am I not?"

"I never said you weren't." Thorin told him defensively. Bilbo scoffed and shook his head, then patted Thorin's arm.

"No harm done. Just remember that hobbits and dwarves aren't the same, no matter how close in appetite we might be." That drew a smile out of Thorin, albeit a small one, but it was enough for Bilbo. He grinned and grabbed his cup, pausing when he found it empty.

"Dear me, it appears we're out of ale. I'll go grab some more." Bilbo smiled as he rose, then stopped and looked at Thorin. His heart raced in his chest and he could only imagine the flush that was crawling up to his ears, but he asked nonetheless.

"Thorin, could I trouble you to come with me? I'd prefer to bring up a few instead of having to make multiple trips." Bilbo lied with the last bit, truthfully wanting nothing more than to spend more time with the dwarf. It was his birthday after all, and if he wanted to make his heart ache by having to stand by Thorin, so be it. The dwarf nodded and followed of course, which relieved the final bit of tension from the whole age fiasco. They all began to return to their conversations, the words mixing into white noise as Bilbo and Thorin walked down the hall.

"Here we are, the wine cellar is down here." He said, opening up a door that showed a small flight of stairs. Thorin followed him down into the delicately lit room, candles flickering on the walls. Bilbo went down one way of the cellar, looking for the proper ale. He had barrels of ale stashed down here, with everything from a rare vintage to the most commonly brewed selection. He had wine and other spirits at the opposite end of the cellar, and wondered if he should pull a bottle out before deciding against it. He wasn't really in the mood for a weak drink this evening.

"You can take a look if you want, if you think you might find something to your tastes. I've got lots, and any of it won't be missed too acutely." He said as he found the correct barrel, and tried to grab it. He could only carry one himself, but suspected Thorin could carry two and decided that such an amount would be enough, if not too much for the lot of them.

"What you've chosen shall be fine." He replied, and Bilbo turned to find himself very close to Thorin. He had grabbed a footstool so he could bring down the barrels at the top, and the height put him nearly at the same level as the dwarf. His eyes pierced into Bilbo's, and when Thorin licked his lips, Bilbo could just  _feel_  all the blood leaving his brain and heading south. The urge to give into what he considered would make this the best birthday in his entire life and just lean forward and kiss Thorin was nearly overpowering. He could see the flecks of grey in Thorin's cropped beard he was so close, and there was but scant inches between them. It was be so easy to give in.

But he didn't. With a madly blushing face, Bilbo pulled one more barrel down and climbed off the footstoll then gestured for Thorin to take two. The dwarf did so silently and Bilbo pleaded for his heart to stop pounding. Thorin began to walk over to the stairs again, and Bilbo hesitated for a moment before following.

He felt a bit glum upon returning the the table, but the cheer that went up at the sight of the ale was enough to bring a smile to his face, even if it wasn't as bright as before. They were at the table for scarcely 20 minutes before Hamfast stretched and began to stand.

"I'm going out to have a pipe, care to join me Mister Dwarf?" While there was more than one dwarf at the table, it was clear that he was talking to Thorin. Hamfast's tone labelled his inquiry as more of a command then a question and Thorin nodded before standing as well. His fingers brushed against Bilbo's shoulder as he walked and the hobbit nearly shivered. He turned to give Hamfast a hard look, wondering just why he wanted Thorin to join him. The gardener simply avoided his gaze and dutifully walked out with Thorin behind him.

"Easy lad, there's no need to worry for Master Gamgee." Bofur said. Bilbo glanced at him.

"It's not him I'm worried about." Bilbo muttered, then snagged a scone and began to nibble at it.

Indeed, over 45 minutes later they both came back inside, neither looking any worse for wear, though Thorin had a bit of a peculiar expression on his face. He took his seat besides Bilbo once more and gave him a small smile.

"What did he do? Did he threaten you? Tell you embarrassing stories? Do I have to kill him?" Thorin's expression seemed to melt a little as he shook his head and chuckled slightly.

"Everything is fine, Bilbo. Master Gamgee simply wanted to talk to me. Nothing more."

"Are you lying to me? Pardon,  _stretching_ _the truth_?" Thorin's smile grew ever so slightly, and he took to hiding it in the mug of ale Bilbo had set out for him. Bilbo sent a wary look at Hamfast, who only grinned. The hobbit huffed out a breath and sipped his ale. Oh, he'd get to the bottom of this. 

* * *

It was after the Gamgess left that Bilbo found himself grouping everyone together in the parlor and hurrying off to fetch their presents. The dwarves had been the hardest to pick for, as he didn't know them nearly as well as he knew the rest of the hobbits he had to give to. He'd had plenty of time to choose of course, as he started looking around since the week after Thorin had come over for dinner. The gifts had been a  _bit_  expensive at some points, but Bilbo hardly cared. He had enough money as it was, spending some of it on his friends was perfectly fine.

The dwarves chatter all but ceased when he walked back into the room, his arms filled with various items. Bilbo set them down on the floor and crouched down as he begun to sort through them as pass them out. Bilbo called for Fíli and Kíli first, and when neither of them made any move, he looked up into the curious, nearly bewildered faces of the 13 dwarves.

"What is it? Come get the presents you fools."

"...Why do you have presents for us?" Thorin finally asked, looking at Bilbo in utter confusion. Bilbo gave him an odd look.

"It's my birthday. You give presents out on your birthday."

"No, you receive them."

"Why would I  _receive_ them? That's like...that's like people giving me a gift just because I didn't die for another whole year. Is that what you do dwarves do?"

Thorin gave him a scrutinizing look. "Bilbo, I'm fairly certain all races that celebrate birthdays do it that way. Are you trying to play a joke on us?"

"Are you kidding? Of course not!" Bilbo scoffed and shook his head. "Come over here and take what's yours, okay? Just humor me."

That got them moving, Fíli and Kíli bring the first out of their seats. They dutifully walked over and took the small bundles Bilbo held out to them and began to tear at the paper, which seemed to spur on the rest. They all rose from their spots and took the gifts Bilbo held out to them, and the hobbit grinned as surprised voices went up.

"Cloaks! Look Uncle, he got us cloaks!" Kíli crowed, hurrying to fasten his on. It was a rich blue color, with embroidery at the cuffs and hem. Upon inspection, it showed that there were two rows of it, one hobbitish, and the other dwarvsh. Bilbo found himself swept into a huge hug by the brothers, the two seeming to squeeze as hard as possible.

"Oh Bilbo, you're the best! Our old cloaks were getting much too short anyways, these are great!" Fíli told him. Balin scoffed as he looked over the book Bilbo had found on the history of hobbits, something the dwarf had expressed interest in only a while ago.

"The two of you grow like weeds, it's no wonder they hardly fit any longer!"

"Oh Bilbo, new quills!" Ori cried, then pulled at the second package that had been tied to the first. "And paper! Oh, I had been running quite low, thank you!"

Thanks continued on with Bilbo receiving hugs from nearly every dwarf, Dwalin included. His had a rather hard forehead knock added, but at least it was a sign that he liked the battle axe Bilbo had to ask three Rangers to buy without getting swindled out of his coin. Gloín had been mourning the breaking of his old locket for nearly two weeks, and all but burst into tears when Bilbo presented him with a new one. As the company chattered on and compared gifts (with Fíli and Kíli showing off their cloaks the most), Bilbo finally snagged the small gift he had placed in his pocket. He went over to Thorin who had been watching the exchange with ill disguised amusement and smiled.

"Ah, here. This one's for you."

"Bilbo, I didn't need a gift." He murmured, but took the small box anyways. He popped off the lid curiously and Bilbo watched nervously as he drew out the heavy steel ring, the metal glinting in the light. Thorin turned it around in his hand before pausing as something on the interior caught his eye.

"It says hobbit friend. I uh, it's my way of saying thank you. We don't really take all that business seriously here in the Shire, what with needing some token to show friendship, but I read once that dwarves take it as such, and I..." Bilbo swallowed and tried to ignore the rapid beat of his heart. "I just thought you'd like it. You wear some other rings, I noticed, so yes. That's it." He finished lamely, shrugging.

"Did you engrave this?" Thorin asked quietly and Bilbo nodded.

"It's not much good, but I had never done it before so--oh!" Bilbo shut himself up when Thorin pulled him into a hug, strong arms wrapping around his body. Bilbo found himself with his face nestled against Thorin's chest, heat rolling off of him in what seemed like waves. Bilbo sighed as he felt Thorin's head tuck into his neck, the dwarf's nose brushing his curls. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin and squeezed tightly, feeling a bit dazed. A kiss may have made today the most incredible in his entire life, but this was definitely just as good. Bilbo found himself wishing to have this everyday, being able to receive a hug of this magnitude whenever the urge struck him. This was why he named Thorin a hobbit friend, not because he was like Bilbo, or because he always understood him. But rather because he honestly  _cared_ , treating Bilbo like family in a world where Bilbo sometimes felt like he didn't have enough, and thanking him where no such thing was needed. Bilbo's heart clenched tight and his chest ached as he hugged Thorin, knowing that perhaps he was in a bit over his head. It didn't really seem to matter though, not with the smell of wool and metal and fire wafting off his friend to come together in a scent that was undeniably just  _Thorin._

A heavy, loud cough broke him out of his stupor and he jumped away as if burned. A look around showed that the company all looked a bit uncomfortable, and Bilbo flushed to the tips of his ears. He could only imagine how transparent he had looked then. A glance at Thorin showed that the dwarf was inspecting his ring again, not a trace of knowledge anywhere in his expression. Bilbo's throat closed even as his chest felt lighter, and it made for a very odd feeling that he didn't quite like.

"Yes, well." Bilbo said, clearing his throat. "Um, I assume you have gifts for me then? Oh gracious that sounded very rude, I am _so_  sorry!"

This drew a laugh out of Bofur and Dwalin, and Bilbo gave them all a smile despite the despairing feeling that was descending upon him inside. The company did indeed have gifts, and they all seemed most unsure about them.

"You only gave us two days, lad! Hardly enough time to make anything worthwhile." Dori grumbled as he handed a shirt over to Bilbo, obviously one that he'd made in his spare time. "I don't know how well it'll fit, but if all my guesses were correct, you'll have a good shirt on your hands."

"Oh Dori, thank you!" Bilbo breathed, his fingers running over the fabric gently. Fíli and Kíli all bit elbowed him out of the way, just about bursting with excitement to give Bilbo their gift.

"We used quite a bit of our time for this, so it better be put through some good use." Kíli said, giving Bilbo a stern look as Fíli produced a small parcel from behind his back. Where it had been before, Bilbo had  _no_ clue, but at least he looked smug to have hid it well enough that it wasn't found. Bilbo tore at the thin wrapping paper to find a pie tin inside. It was a bit misshapen at some parts, with an air that spoke of novice work, and Bilbo realized that they must've worked together to make it. "See, now you can make us all sorts of pies. It's like a gift to you  _and_  us!"

"By Durin's beard..." Bilbo heard Thorin mutter in exasperation, and a grand smile broke on his face.

"Oh you silly boys, come here." Bilbo hugged them again and found himself being lifted off the ground slightly as they returned the gesture. He was overcome with emotion throughout the rest of the gifts, tearing up a bit a few times. They'd obviously all put quite a bit of thought into it, from the pot holders Ori had knitted to the pipe Bifur had made him. He had received presents before of course, but there was something different about getting them now. Perhaps it was because he was raised with the expectation of only giving on his birthday, or something even more than that, but Bilbo found that he hadn't felt this happy in a long time. It was as though something was finally clicking into place and he could finally  _breathe_  again, with deep, sweets puffs of air that filled him completely.

Thorin was the last to give him a gift, thought it did not have a physical form. He instead tapped Bilbo's shoulder and hesitated before speaking.

"You have named me hobbit friend tonight, which is a very significant event in dwarvish culture. So in return Bilbo, I would like to gift you the knowledge of our language."

The collective gasp then fell over the company was enough to send Bilbo's mind searching for some bit of information as to why it was so important.

Oh!

"But, I thought your race didn't share your language with outsiders." Bilbo said skeptically. Thorin nodded slowly.

"Yes, that's true. I...I do not consider you to be an outsider though. I doubt any of my fellow dwarves do, and thought this is perhaps a  _hug_ _e_  push on any sort of line of power I have, being able to share my language with you is what I wish to give." Thorin seemed to deflate as the confidence it took to say that dissipated, and left him standing there. It was silent for a few moments, before Fíli spoke.

"I think it's a fine gift. Kíli and I both." The aforementioned dwarf nodded firmly and put an arm around his brother's shoulders. Surprisingly, Dori was the next to agree, even if it was fabled just how well he stuck to old traditions. The rest followed suit, their voices rising as they declared Bilbo the only non dwarf to be worthy of learning Khuzdul. Bilbo sniffed and wiped at his eyes, and oh, he would not cry at a time like this!

"Aww, Bilbo!" Kíli said as he wrapped his arms around Bilbo and hugged the sniffling hobbit, who felt that he was far too emotional for his own good right about now. Fíli soon joined in, and before he knew it he being hugged by just about everyone in the company. Thorin was third closest to him, right after his nephews. The steadiness of the dwarf was like a tether for him, keeping Bilbo grounded when he felt he just might float away. 

* * *

Of course, the night had to end and Thorin insisted that they all go back to camp. They all wished him a happy birthday once more as they went, thanking him profusely for the gifts. Dwalin knocked foreheads with him once more, and left Bilbo feeling a bit faint and not particularly hoping anyone else would start picking up on the action. The dwarf patted Thorin's shoulder as he went out the door, leaving Bilbo and Thorin to stand there alone.

"It seems this happens every time." Bilbo said with a laugh, watching as Thorin twisted his ring where it sat on his finger. Thorin chuckled and nodded.

"Yes, I suppose it does."

They lapsed into silence and Bilbo found himself wanting to speak, wishing he could say something that would complete the night.

"Thank you." He said instead, smiling at Thorin. "I haven't had such a lovely birthday in a very long time. I...I do believe I'd forgotten what it felt like."

"No thanks are needed, Bilbo. It really is the least we could all do." Thorin said quietly. He hesitated for a moment before ducking his head down and Bilbo felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes fluttered shut and his heart raced. Oh, Aüle take the reins, Thorin couldn't be going in for a kiss, no, no he would never--

Bilbo gasped slightly when Thorin's forehead rested against his, his skin still feeling a bit tender from Dwalin's goodbye. Thorin was so close that Bilbo could feel his breath on him, and when he shifted ever so slightly their noses brushed. Bilbo opened his eyes and looked at Thorin from under his lashes, soaking up the way the pale gaze flickered from the floor back to him.

"It's a customary greeting and goodbye." He rumbled, and the vibrations from his voice filled Bilbo's body like molten metal being poured into a mold.

"Thanks as well?" Bilbo asked, his breath shaky. Thorin laughed, and oh, what a sweet sound it was, so close that Bilbo could feel the push of his breathing and the release of tension in his body.

"You're quite clever for a hobbit."

"I suppose you're brilliant for a dwarf."

When Thorin finally pulled back with another laugh, Bilbo felt as though his senses were at war, gasping for breath even though it felt like he could finally breathe again. Thorin took a step backwards out the door and Bilbo followed him, leaning against the doorway.

"Goodnight, Bilbo." He said quietly and all Bilbo could do was wave his fingers and smile. Thorin set off with only a glance behind him as Bilbo shut the door and leaned against it with a shuddering breath. He was half hard, which was frankly embarrassing. It was wonder that Thorin hadn't noticed, and Bilbo was  _exponentially_  grateful for it.

Bilbo tried a clean up a bit at first, tidying the rubbish that littered the parlor floor from the gift giving earlier. Despite his best efforts, the hobbit still found his mind racing, replaying each moment that had passed between him and Thorin. He'd been so close to kissing Thorin down in the wine cellar and even closer there at the front door. The memory of Thorin's nose brushing against his and the way his voice resonated through Bilbo's entire body had the hobbit closing his eyes struggling to draw in a calming breath. His cock throbbed in his trousers and feeling as though he were nothing but a filthy animal, he gave in.

Bilbo retreated to his room and all but threw himself upon his bed with a sigh. Bilbo groaned as he undid his trousers and shoved them down along with his smallclothes, the fabric dragging against his cock. He set to unbuttoning his shirt some, and trailed his hand along inside, closing his eyes and imagining that it was Thorin's own. His fingers rubbed and pinched at his nipple, and Bilbo's breathing quickened as he felt it pebble beneath his ministrations. He trailed his other hand down past his stomach and hips, and nearly gasped when he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He moved his hand up to the tip and smeared the leaking precome with his thumb, biting down on his lip as he did so. It provided a bit of lubrication as he slowly stroked himself, fingers squeezing slightly.

He recalled how strong Thorin's hands had been on his that day after the festival and imagined that it was him doing this instead. He remembered the calloused fingers and palms, and the strength behind them that could so easily pin him right here and do what they wished until he was a shuddering, pleading mess. Bilbo moaned as his hips jutted upwards, and Bilbo could only imagine what Thorin would do in a situation like this. Would he let Bilbo come undone on his own, silent except for his own breathing? Or would he whisper filthy little things as he held him and claimed him in a way Bilbo couldn't even envision. The friction was getting too much, so Bilbo drew his hand away with a groan and spit on his palm, frowning in distaste. He really would've preferred to have some oil, but he'd unfortunately ran out of the stuff he preferred for this type of activity.

He went back to stoking himself, pace becoming faster and erratic as he felt himself nearing his peak. It was a tad bit embarrassing that he hadn't lasted all that long, but the thought of Thorin here with him--something he'd been dutifully ignoring each time he indulged--was seeming to overpower any stamina he had. Bilbo gasped and moaned as he felt his climax curl low in in his belly, teetering right on the edge of completion. He imaged Thorin leaning down to his ear, his voice thick and gravelly and utterly smug as he told Bilbo how wonderful he looked, and how much he desired to take him. Bilbo's poor mind spun those words out of the tones they'd already heard and as the imagined voice floated through his head, Bilbo gasped out his name, moaning as he climaxed. His hips stuttered upwards as he spent himself, pulsing on his hands and stomach. He sunk into the bed with a heavy inhale, and ducked his head into the pillow as he exhaled.

Bilbo felt self loathing replace the pleasure he'd experienced only moments earlier, and grimaced. With a groan, he hefted himself up, and wiped his hand oon his shirt, then gathered his smallclothes and trousers and put them on again. He went to his drawers and pulled out a nightshirt before resolutely heading out and off to the washroom. Well, if he was going to sit and stew in his own foolishness there was no reason to not do it cleanly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been planning that end scene for like 5 chapters i'm not even kidding 
> 
> also, my headcanon is that dwarves don't associate rings with marriage really, but prefer to use beads and other forms of jewelry. hobbits however, most definitely associate rings with romantic intentions
> 
> in addition, thorin had kept his choice to teach bilbo khuzdul all to himself and even though the company all seemed to support it in this chapter, well, it might have been a bit for show with some of them


	9. Chapter 9

Let it be said that Thorin never did anything by halves.

Something left unfinished was always like an open wound to Thorin, needing to be treated and finished before anything bad could become of it.

Of course, even if a wound was treated, there could always be lasting effects from it. If fondness and ardor was the wound, and his rather over zealous birthday gift was the treatment, then it appeared that some of his company thinking he was a complete fool was the effect. Perhaps it would've been wise to breach the subject of teaching Khuzdul to Bilbo  _before_  he'd gone off and already said he would, but time had been of the essence and hastiness was one of Thorin's flaws. The well taken reception had thrown the dwarf off a bit, leading him into thinking that whole ordeal was fine. As it turned out, even those who replied positively in Bag End had less positive thoughts about it once they were out of Bilbo's company.

"That was the most foolish, ridiculous and utterly selfish thing you have ever done." Balin said bluntly when Thorin fell in step with him at the bottom of Bagshot Row. Thorin turned to him sharply, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

" _Pardon_?"

"You heard me." The dwarf replied hotly, mouth set into a tight frown. "Thorin, our language is not something you can go tossing about! Bilbo may have named you hobbit friend, but you are no king and have no right to do something similar! He is not a dwarf friend, and as such has no reason to learn one of our most guarded secrets!"

"Do you imply that he has not given us more than some of our own folk did? Bilbo has been more of a friend to us in these short months than dwaves back home were for decades!" He argued, temper rising. Balin shook his head.

"Don't go putting words in my mouth, lad. Bilbo is a friend as fine as any, but this is too much. What is the real reason?" Balin stopped suddenly and gave him a scrutinizing look. "You could've easily forged a new pot or pan or him, but instead you chose our language. When will he use that?"

"My reasoning is none of your business." Thorin said lowly. "He is a resourceful creature, he'll shall find use out of it easily."

"You expect to teach him everything in less than 3 weeks?" Balin said sharply. "Do you plan to stay and give him something he shall never use again and then disappear to never be seen again? What kind of friendship is that?"

"It is not friendship." Thorin said quickly, then swallowed heavily. Balin fell silent, looking at Thorin in disbelief.

"Thorin..."

"I suspect that my regard may never be returned, but...but I must try. Less than three weeks we may have, but I've seen change in a far shorter time."

"Oh, you enormous fool." Balin tsked, shaking his head. "Thorin, do not do anything you would not follow up with. You've told us about Bilbo's loss, if you were tell him would it not add yet another to his list? You must think rationally lad, and for the future."

"I do think for the future." Thorin said quietly, then sighed and began to walk once more. Balin followed in silence, obviously thinking.

"Who else opposes my choice?"

"Oín, Gloín without a doubt, and I suspect Bombur and Nori as well."

" _Nori_?" Thorin repeated. "The dwarf used to be a thief and he wishes to challenge me on what's right?"

"I think that he's simply thinking of you." Balin replied. "We were all fairly shocked, Thorin, and old habits die hard. You know perfectly well how much we all adore Bilbo, but a strong companionship does not equal absolute trust and faith. You have been a stickler for tradition just as I for the longest time, but Bilbo has changed you. Is this really just the passing fancy I have no doubt you're saying it is?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"More obvious than an elf in Erebor." Thorin grimaced in distaste. What he was experiencing was indeed more than a passing fancy, but not at such a level that it could not be dealt with hopefully.

"No." Thorin said simply. "Have you known me to be fickle?"

"No, not since you were but a dwarfling." Balin mused. The rest of the walk was in silence, the pair both immersed in their own thoughts.  Balin seemed subdued by his vague explanation, but Thorin loathed to tell another person about it. He knew that Balin would not dare divulge something like this, understanding that matters of the heart were not to be taken lightly with Thorin. He wouldn't say a thing, but if Dwalin caught even a whiff of what Thorin had said to his brother, he wouldn't cease to ask and prod about it. No, this had to be kept between the two of them for as long as possible, or at least until Thorin was completely sure.

Oín and Gloín were ticked, to say the least. The former more than the latter, but both still angry enough to glare at him. Their parents had always been very strict with traditions and to have something as well guarded as their language simply given away went against everything they had been taught throughout their lives. Both of the brothers were married, and Thorin thought about trying to explain his reasoning to them, but decided against it. Gloín blew things way out of proportion, and with Oín bad hearing, they'd no doubt spin a tale completely different from what Thorin had told them. He reasoned that they would understand once Thorin was ready to tell them the whole, sure truth. He was still unsure about what his feelings were exactly, but in time he would be. For right now, it was a much better option to just keep quiet and endure their disapproval.

Nori didn't appear that bothered by his choice by the end of the night, nor did Bombur, but he suspected that they had been the victims of Dwalin's gossip. For all Thorin knew, his friend could be telling them that he and Bilbo were secretly in  _love_ , and kept it all under wraps. Thorin snorted as they all settled down around the fire for bed that night, the sky pitch black with only a scattering of stars. He lay awake as they all dropped off, watching the sky with a racing mind. He wondered if Bilbo watched the stars when he could not sleep and clenched his hand with the ring on it. How Bilbo got the correct size, he didn't know, but it fit on his finger perfectly. He brought it up and looked at the ring in the moonlight, watching it gleam and shine. It really was a plain ring, a simple curling design on the outside. The interior's engraving was burned into his mind, and he wondered if Bilbo truly knew what type of importance this carried with dwarves. They were such a secretive race and the naming of an outsider was a privilege to be given out by a king only. He was no king, but Bilbo deserved it as well as any. 

* * *

He had more support than disapproval overall, so Thorin didn't feel all that terrible about what he had done. He decided that if they had less than two weeks left, the lessons should start as soon as possible. Bilbo had proudly declared how well he soaked up languages in the past when the knowledge the he knew Sindarin came to light. Two weeks wasn't a lot of time, but it was enough to teach him the rudimentary things. He caught Bilbo as he was leaving the smithy the next day, having concluded his lunch and shopping. Bilbo smiled at Thorin when the dwarf got his attention, stopping and turning to him.

"Ah, good afternoon, Thorin." He greeted brightly. Thorin inclined his head in reply and got right to what he needed to say.

"Yes, Bilbo, I was wondering when you wished to start your lessons?" Thorin realized how brisk that sounded and offered him a slight smile. "I am free anytime after my work here has concluded, so what works best for you?"

"Oh!" Bilbo said, then paused as he thought. "Well, I've not anything to do after I leave the market usually, so perhaps you could just come over as soon as you're done here? Any day is fine with me, and if it isn't, I'd be sure to tell you."

"May I come over tonight then?"

"Of course." Bilbo replied, smiling brightly. Thorin felt his slight smile grow into a bigger one as he nodded.

"Wonderful. I shall be there then. Ah, until then."

Bilbo grinned. "Until then." He turned and began to walk away and Thorin watched him go, his smile slipping away. His heart pounded in his chest from the simple exchange and he bit the inside of his cheek in exasperation. If Dís and Frerin could see him now, they'd no doubt laugh until they cried. She would call him emotionally stunted, and he would simply make due with pathetic. Ah, siblings.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on, moving as slow as possible and getting on Thorin's nerves. It didn't help that Dwalin was working with him at the forge, practically  _cooing_  about he and Bilbo.

"It is  _not_  like that." Thorin growled for the third time that day, glaring at his friend. Dwalin was sitting on what must've been a worktable for a hobbit, but served just fine as bench for him.

"So no happy announcement when you get back to camp? Oh,  _if_ you get back to camp."

"I have hot metal at my side and a fire in front of me. Is it wise to tempt my itching fingers?"

"Last I saw, I wasn't the one temptin' you. Our hobbit however--"

" _Enough_ _ _!__ " Thorin slammed down his hammer with a loud clang and turned his gaze on Dwalin. His friend looked a bit surprised by his outburst and held up his hands in an act of surrender.

"Easy, easy. I'm just jestin'."

"You know not of what you jest about." Thorin nearly spat, taking off his gloves and whipping them down. "Get a clue and then try again."

"I do it because you won't tell me anythin'," Dwalin said carefully. "You haven't talked to any of us and it's just gettin' you riled up. Aren't we brothers in all but blood? You've gone all secretive and I don't like it one bit."

Thorin felt the anger that had flared up before ease a bit and he sighed. Dwalin moved over as he sat down on the bench next to him, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"You're right. Perhaps I have sought solace in my own mind too often lately. But this...this is not simply something I will talk about over a campfire, Dwalin. This is  _serious._ I hardly expect you would know much about what I am going through, so what would be the point in speaking about it?"

Dwalin was silent for a moment as he nodded. "You remember when I first met Ori? He was what, 50? What did I say to you?"

"You said that he was the One. Your One." 

"And what did I end up doin'?"

"Well, you locked yourself in your room for three days, and Balin had to ask for my help in--"

"No, after that."

Thorin sighed and looked at his hands, eyes focused on the ring Bilbo had given to him. "You talked Balin and I. We forced it out of you a bit in the beginning, but you told us. About your concerns, and everything else that was plaguing your mind."

"It helped, didn't it? You and Balin didn't know anythin' about findin' your Ones, but you still helped me. I'm not sayin' that it's the same situation, but the concept is still there."

"You knew, Dwalin. You and Ori both. It took some time before Nori and Dori consented, but you were both certain." Thorin reminded him, hand going out to twist the ring on his finger. "It isn't the same. I must think about the repercussions of my choices. This is not something to be dealt with carelessly."

"Ha, screw that!" Dwalin exclaimed. He shook his head and gave Thorin a hard look. "You  _never_  think about what you want. Forget the consequences, go along with what you want. Do you think it would matter to any of us what you chose as long as you were happy?"

"Well, I should hope so--"

Dwalin smacked his arm. "Don't be smart, you know what I mean. If we're only goin' to stay for another two weeks, you better make the most of 'em. If you think for a second that we're gonna let you blow off somethin' that's this important, you've got a head full of rocks."

"Still more than you on any day." Thorin muttered, then smirked slightly when Dwalin laughed and hit his back. 

* * *

Despite his support earlier, Dwalin still continued to mock Thorin mercilessly, and when the time to close up the smithy rolled around he of course went off somewhere and left Thorin to tidy up. The dwarf did so begrudgingly, scowling as he moved around the small building, absolutely tiny when compared to the one he owned with Dís and Víli back in Ered Luin. He missed his home fiercely, the year and a half without his brother and sister finally beginning to weigh on him. They'd all sent messages along with a Ranger only a few days ago, and Thorin could only imagine the reply he'd get from Dís. Something about having endangered her only sons, why she ought to kill him for going so long without any contact and possibly a nice ending telling him to come home. Possibly. He wasn't really counting on it.

Thorin managed to slip away unnoticed by his nephews, who no doubt would've wanted to come with him and try to help. Their help would've most likely been in the form of teaching poor Bilbo the filthiest curses they knew, under the guise of it being a greeting. At least Thorin had planned on telling him what they actually meant, and which ones he should say to Dwalin at the nearest point in time.

Thorin felt as though he should've gone back to camp and washed before coming to Bilbo's, as he was rather dirty from working. Bilbo had taken care of him when he was drunk and barely able to stand however, so perhaps he wouldn't mind too much. The dwarf sent a look towards the Gamgee's small smial as he neared Bag End, spying to see if Bilbo's friend Hamfast was in sight. He was a rather fierce hobbit beneath that gardener facade, being protective of Bilbo as if he were of his own blood. Thorin reasoned that they must've been as he and Dwalin were, friends so close they could be brothers. He thought back to Hamfast nearly  _ordering_  him out to smoke, and smiled slightly as he remembered Bilbo's wary, suspicious face at his friend's request.  

_"So Mister Dwarf,"_ _Hamfast_ _said as they sat on the bench in Bilbo's front yard, the hobbit lighting his pipe with a quick burst of light in the dark night. "You and Bilbo are getting along quite well,_ _hm_ _?"_

_Thorin looked at_ _Hamfast_ _quickly, before nodding. "Yes, I do_ _believe_ _so."_

_"_ _You're_ _... friends?"_

_"I am under the_ _impression_ _that we are. Do you_ _have_ _reason to doubt that?"_

_Hamfast_ _puffed out a laugh. "Oh heavens no. Bilbo's got a heart too kind for his own good, but he knows to wield it carefully. He just_ _doesn't_ _become good_ _friends_ _with people easily._ _Acquaintance_ _s yes, but I_ _haven't_ _seen him befriend another the way he has with you dwarves since we were_ _fauntlings_ _."_

_Thorin watched as_ _Hamfast_ _blew out a smoke ring, the shape sailing up and dissipating. He held out his pipe to Thorin in invitation, one_ _which_ _the dwarf took gladly. He breathed in the full, sweet aroma of hobbit pipe-weed, the taste much different than what he had grown up using._ _Hamfast_ _made an impressed noise as Thorin blew out a huge smoke ring,_ _growin_ _g to be nearly the size of his head._

_"You fancy him,_ _don't_ _you?"_

_Thorin inhaled sharply, his lungs drawing in smoke and making him cough._ _Hamfast_ _seemed rather_ _unbothered_ _by the spluttering dwarf at his side, calmly taking his pipe so it_ _wouldn't_ _fall. Thorin cleared his throat a few times, trying to rid the rest of the smoke from his body. "_ _E_ _-Excuse me?"_

_"_ _It's_ _a_ _simple_ _question, Mister Dwarf. One I know you heard correctly, if your spluttering is any indicator."_ _Hamfast_ _took a drag of his pipe, breathing in deeply. "_ _I'm_ _not blind, Mister Dwarf, and I doubt you_ _haven't_   _acknowledge_ _d how_ _you're_ _feeling yet."_

_"Would it matter if I did?" Thorin asked after a minute of silence. He thought back to when they had been in the wine cellar, and_ _Bilbo_ _'s lips had been mere inches from his own. Thorin had barely been able to control the urge to kiss him, his heart pounding in his chest. But Bilbo had looked away and Thorin resigned himself to grabbing the small barrels of ale and_ _going_ _back up the stairs_ _with_ _a heavy feeling in his stomach._

_"Yes."_ _Hamfast_   _replied_ _. "To him, more than me of course, but_ _I'd_ _still like to know."_

_"Why? It hardly concerns you."_

_"Oh  but it does!"_ _Hamfast_ _told him. "Bilbo been shutting himself up in there since his_ _Ma_ _died, rest her soul. He used to go out for days on adventures, come back all scuffed up but_ _wearing_ _a smile that stretched from here to Bree._ _He's_ _my best friend_ _you see_ _, and I_ _don't_ _want to see anymore hurt come to him if I can help it. If you fancy him, I want to know. If you plan on saying something to him about it, I need to know. And I swear, if you tell him and scamper right on off back to your mountain,_ _I'll_ _be coming after you with a_ _vengeance_ _." Thorin took the pipe when_ _Hamfast_ _held it out to him and took a long drag of it._

_"_ _He's_   _important_ _to me. I would not cause him hurt if I could help it." Thorin admitted quietly, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees._ _Hamfast_ _nodded._

_"_ _That's_ _good._ _He's_ _always liked dwarves you know, read books upon book all about 'em. He and his_ _Ma_ _did."_

_"I_ _don't_ _know_ _either_ _of his parents_ _names_ _." Thorin told_ _Hamfas_ _t._ _The hobbit smiled slightly,_ _albeit_   _sadly_ _._

_"_ _Bungo_ _was his Dad,_ _Belladonna_ _was his_ _Ma_ _. He gets sad talking about 'em, you know? He never really talked to me about it, but_ _I've_ _never lost a parent. I'd be pretty useless."_

_"There_ _isn't_ _a creature in the world who is useless if they_ _lighten_ _the burdens of another." Thorin told him quietly. "_ _Dwarvish_ _proverb, that."_

_Hamfast_ _snorted and laughed slightly. "He used to make me read all about dwarves when we were younger, and you lot looked pretty_ _terrifying_ _in the pictures._ _You're_ _all a bunch of softies,_ _aren't_ _you?"_

_Thorin grunted a_ _reply_ _and handed the pipe back to_ _Hamfast_ _, the_ _hobbit's_ _laughter trailing off as he took another puff from the pipe._

* * *

Thorin knocked on Bilbo's door and waited for his friend to come open the door. Not even a minute later, the sound of footsteps could be heard and the door was opened to reveal a smiling Bilbo.

"There you are. Come in, come in!" Thorin gave him his usual flicker of a smile, trying to ignore the rapid beat of his heart. Bilbo took it with his expected grin and ushered the dwarf inside, shutting the door behind him.

"So." Bilbo said, clapping his hands together quietly and turning back to Thorin as the dwarf took off his boots. "Um, how was work? Er, or your day? Both perhaps?"

Thorin found himself smiling more, his mouth stopping just short of a grin. "My day has been fine. Work was..."

"Work?" Bilbo suggested. Thorin laughed slightly and shook his head.

"Exhausting. Dwalin worked the forge with me today, and he's just..."

"Dwalin?" Bilbo piped up again, grinning widely when Thorin laughed.

"Precisely." Thorin stretched and groaned as his bones creaked and his muscles finally released the tension that had plagued them through the day. His back had been feeling rather sore as of late, a testament to sleeping outside each night. The soft, rolling grasses of the Shire were far kinder to him than other camps along his journey had been, and even more comfortable than some beds at inns they'd stayed in had been. Hobbit beds were incredibly cozy, even more so than Thorin's own bed in Ered Luin was. Perhaps he'd ask Bilbo if he could stay the night, under the guise of needing a break from the company. Yes, that was the reason why.

"Would you like anything to drink? Perhaps something to eat?" Bilbo asked, already disappearing down the hall towards the kitchen. Thorin followed after him, eyes trailing over the interior of Bag End.

"Only if you're having something yourself." Thorin replied offhandedly, his focus on Bilbo's home. He'd never really taken to the time to inspect it oddly enough, and now every tidbit of it was unbearably endearing. In one of the halls leading to the kitchen there was a fireplace with various books and papers littered near it, something that Bilbo hopefully cleaned up occasionally lest it become a hazard. There was a table in front of the windows in there was well, the golden late summer sunshine filtering in and warming the air. Thorin wondered how often Bilbo would sit here and read, write or think, preferring the fire to his chair in the little study Thorin had seen before. Thorin looked up at the picture hung above the mantel, inspecting the details closely as he stepped forward.

It was a portrait of three hobbits, far younger than they would be now. He put names to the faces, with Bilbo's parents Belladonna and Bungo, and then finally to the fauntling in between them, a bright smile on his young face. Little Bilbo Baggins, untouched yet by the tragedies that would befall him. Thorin nearly reached out to the picture, wishing to touch the fine careful lines of the painting. He wondered for only a second what Belladonna and Bungo would've thought of he and his company. From what he had gathered, Belladonna would've been delighted, intrigued by the dwarves who had befriended her only child. Bungo however, surely would've thought them to be exhausting and best left alone, begrudgingly accepting their presence only because his wife and son did so happily. Or perhaps, he wouldn't have had to. Maybe they would've never befriended Bilbo like they did and this...this whole thing that had occurred, wouldn't have. Bilbo would've had his parents and Thorin might've continued through life without a part of him that he hadn't realized he was missing. 

"Well, I'm making tea and I have scones and a bowl of cherries to munch on while we do this." Bilbo's voice cut through Thorin's haze like a knife and the dwarf nearly sprung back as he turned to look at the hobbit. Bilbo had a dish towel in his hands and a smile on his face that was nearly reminiscent of the one in the picture. Thorin managed to nod and he clasped his hands behind his back to prevent another bout of touching Bilbo's belongings.

"I like cherries." Thorin told him, mentally chastising himself for sounding so stupid the next moment. Bilbo only laughed, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"That's good then! You can teach me in the study or the parlor, though if you'd prefer somewhere else that's fine too." Thorin followed Bilbo as he went back into the kitchen, lingering at the doorway while Bilbo busied himself with the plate of scones that were cooling by the windowsill.

"May we stay in here?" Thorin asked, finally crossing inside and over to the table, where he snagged a scone just as Bilbo was putting the plate down. The hobbit looked around once before nodding.

"Of course. Will we need paper or anything for the lesson, or is it simply speech you'll be teaching?"

"A few sheets, yes." Thorin said around the mouth full of buttery pastry. "I won't teach you anymore than the most basic things today, so paper won't necessarily be needed. Do  _you_ wish to learn the written language?" Thorin asked, taking a seat at the table. Bilbo paused a moment before nodding.

"I don't think you can ever really learn a language until you can write what you want to say." Bilbo fell silent for a moment before grinning. "I'm quite excited, you know. It's been awhile since I learned a language, let alone one so secret."

"Khuzdul is far better than Sindarin." Thorin declared firmly, picking up a cherry from the bowl. "Easier to write as well, I should say."

"You know Sindarin?" Bilbo asked as he left the room, voice echoing through the tunnels of Bag End.

"Hardly." Thorin replied. "I saw some of your books and writings by the fire, and that damned Elvish looks illegible to me. Khuzdul is much better."

"That damned Elvish was taught to me by Lord Elrond, thank you very much." Bilbo told him as he came back in, sheets of paper in one hand and a quill and inkwell in the other. "I've seen Khuzdul before you know, and  _I_  could hardly make sense of it." Bilbo set the items down on the table as he sat opposite of Thorin. "Perhaps you have your work cut out for you."

Thorin found himself nearly grinning at the show of tartness and sass. He took another cherry and ate it, then set the pit off to the side. "I'd be greatly disappointed if I didn't."

Bilbo laughed brightly, the sound high and so perfect that Thorin's chest ached. "Let's get down to it then, hm? No sense in burning daylight."

"Yes, of course." Thorin said, and took up a sheet of paper and the quill. He dipped the tip into the inkwell before writing, the quill rasping against the paper. It had been awhile since he'd written in his first language, but the letters formed with ease, as if he had been writing only a few minutes earlier. Bilbo was silent as Thorin continued to write, eyes fixated on the paper and his hand.

"In Khuzdul, we have 50 sounds, or letters if you will." Thorin began, gesturing to the paper. "14 vowels, and 36 consonants, though we know them as radicals. They're the building blocks of the language itself. Now, each word has at least one radicals, and any word with two to three is more than one word together. For example, nûlukhlukhud is the words nûlukh and lukhud together, which means moonlight."

Bilbo's face lit up in understanding. "Oh, so it's a compound word then?"

"Exactly." Thorin replied, finding himself smiling proudly. He knew that Bilbo would pick up on Khuzdul right away. They'd be able to get through it in no time. "For writing, a form of Cirth is used. Soon after the system's creation it was largely replaced by Tengwar, but dwarves had already adopted these runes."

"The angular script makes it easier to carve, yes?" Bilbo asked, and Thorin nodded.

"A bit of a historian, aren't you?"

Bilbo laughed. "Oh, heavens no! I enjoy it well enough, but by no means am I a historian. Carving that inscription into your ring would've been much easier if I had used something as angular as Khuzdul is all."

"Yes, round designs are often hard to carve." Thorin told him as he twisted the ring on his finger. He'd found himself unable to stop touching it, reveling in Bilbo's gift as the cool metal sit snug against his finger. "You did a wonderful job on it."

Bilbo grinned at the praise. "Why, thank you!" Thorin snorted and shook his head as Bilbo laughed and reached to grab another cherry.

"Say, Thorin can you do this?" The dwarf looked up as Bilbo popped the stem into his mouth and worked at it for a bit, then stuck his tongue out proudly. A tied stem sat there and Thorin could practically  _feel_  his blood rushing from his head and heading south.

"I-I can." Thorin managed to say, feeling a blush creep up his neck. Oh, these were not appropriate thoughts to be having. By Mahal's beard, was just a cherry stem! "It's been awhile since I've done it, but I can."

Thorin reached over to the bowl and took a cherry, then plucked the stem off. He popped it into his mouth and softened it before trying to tie it. He'd not done it for years, but the stem was worked into shape easily enough and he took it off his tongue and showed Bilbo.

"My, you can indeed." Bilbo said, but his voice sounded oddly strained. The hobbit swallowed and took a scone instead, then gestured back to the paper. "Um, ah, as you were saying?"

"Oh yes, right." Thorin replied, and ducked his head, feeling like a complete fool. He brought himself back to the lesson at hand and coached Bilbo through the alphabet, explaining which letters were different in their prognostications and teaching him single words as they worked their way down the alphabet. Bilbo was an attentive student, trying to wrap his tongue around each word and copying down the runes after Thorin wrote them. He huffed when something didn't come out looking quite right and complained about being used to more circular script, but let it go when Thorin waved his hand and simply urged him to continue. They were able to work through the alphabet in record time and Thorin began to teach him basic words and phrases, some of which Bilbo butchered on the first try, but got the hang of soon after. To most dwarves, hearing an outsider say some of the most basic things so badly would've been taken with offense, but Thorin could only bring himself to find Bilbo's blunders endearing, patiently correcting him while he fought back a smile that tried to grow each time. The tension that had filled the air at first dissipated as Thorin finally brought Bilbo to the point where he could hold the most basic conversation, consisting of a hello, and inquiry and a goodbye. The pride that swelled inside of him was finally enough to make Thorin grin fully, eyes crinkling at Bilbo's absolutely delighted expression when he'd gotten through it all so smoothly.

* * *

They decided to end the lesson for the day after that, and Bilbo brought out his pipe and offered Thorin his spare one again. They filled the bowls with the sweet pipe-weed Bilbo preferred, and set to smoking.

 

 

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Hm?" The dwarf murmured around the stem of his pipe. Bilbo hesitated before speaking again.

"You lost both of your parents too, right? That's what you told me before."

Thorin exhaled deeply to prevent himself from tensing at the subject. "Yes, I did. It was...it was a long time ago."

"How long?" Bilbo asked, then hastily added. "You don't need to tell me."

"No, it's alright." Thorin replied, leaning forward against the table. He was silent for a few moments doing the calculations to figure out the number. "114 years ago. I was only 70."

Bilbo shook his head. "My, that's a long time. I couldn't imagine living so long after something like that." He went on to murmur something under his breath and Thorin gave him a curious look.

"What was that?"

"Only 70, you said." Bilbo replied in exasperation. "I forgot how old you were."

Thorin found himself smiling despite the previously grim topic. "Perhaps you're just young?" By dwarvish standards, Bilbo was very young, not even of age yet. The thought of that had been dizzying at his birthday party, and Thorin had very nearly gotten down on his knees and prayed for forgiveness before Balin said something about hobbit lifespans. He'd thought he had been infatuated with a mere child for several moments, one who was even younger than his own nephews. Bilbo still was, technically, but in comparison to how long Bilbo would actually live, he was certainly a bit old than Fíli and Kíli.

"I'm in the prime of my life, thank you very much." He retorted, making Thorin snicker. They fell into silence one more before Bilbo asked, "What happened?"

"My father died in a mining accident." Thorin said, his tone turning bitter. "or at least, that's what we were told."

"You don't believe it?"

"I don't believe it was an accident." He said sharply, then sighed. "I apologize. There were...events leading up to his death that make such an accident suspicious, or to me at least. You'd think me to be a fool if I told you." 

Bilbo hummed around his pipe." I probably wouldn't, but you don't have to tell me either way. It's all at your discretion."

Thorin nodded and puffed at his pipe, blowing out a few smoke rings before continuing. "We left Erebor after the accident. It claimed not only my father, but Balin and Dwalin's as well, along with my grandfather. Erebor had been my home for my entire life, but it was no longer safe. I feared what else might befall my family, along with my friends. Balin and Dwalin came along with the rest of my family and I, and we set out. We were so unprepared for a journey of its magnitude, and we had to leave so many things behind. Even important items that had been passed down had to be abandoned. 

"I should've tried to put more planning into the move. I thought that we would have plenty of supplies to last. I had never been out of Erebor, except to go to the nearby city of Dale before, and I severely underestimated what it would take to reach Ered Luin. My mother was wise though, and she taught us how to ration correctly. Even with her help, however, our money and supplies dwindled, and we found ourselves constantly exhausted throughout the journey. The passes down the mountain and from there on out were dangerous, filled with bandits and all sorts of foul creatures. It was one such occasion, we were ambushed by a group of orcs. They were smarter than you normal ones, and we hadn't expected it.

"We were all exhausted when they found us, and we sustained just as many injuries as he gave out to those monsters. One of them, this pale, grotesque thing that was obviously the leader, it killed my mother. Only Balin, Dwalin and I had much experience with real weapons at that point. Dís and Frerin had only begun to train with their weapons of choice, and as such we urged them on without us." Thorin smiled despite himself, looking at the smoldering pipe-weed.

"They remained of course and fought beside us. I didn't manage to slay the creature that took out mother when I went after it. It knocked my sword from my hands and it was only because I managed to find a piece of an oak branch to shield the next blow that I lived. It gave me enough time to grab my sword once more and I cut the orc's arm off. It fled after that, and took the remaining orcs with it."

"And you were dubbed Oakenshield." Bilbo mused quietly. Thorin snorted at the name.

"You can thank my brother Frerin for that. He was so adamant about it that eventually even Balin was saying it. I think that humor was Frerin's way of coping, so I went along and used it with my name. I admit, its grown on me."

Bilbo laughed quietly. "Your brother sounds nice."

"He's a menace." Thorin told him wearily, then smiled slightly. "He has our mother's good looks though." Bilbo said something in reply, but it was too quiet for Thorin to hear it. The hobbit took a puff of his pipe when Thorin asked him to repeat it.

"I asked what your mother's name was." He said. Thorin felt something warm grow in him at Bilbo's question. It was odd, how happy simply being asked about his family was making him. The company were all old friends, so close that their families all tended to merge together and if anything happened to one of them, the others would know about it soon enough. But Bilbo, he wasn't like that. That was not to say that he wasn't a close friend, but he wasn't a dwarf, he didn't have to feel any kinship with him. He didn't have to care about Thorin's past, or his dead family members, but he _did_. He wanted to know more about him, and it made Thorin feel so content that his heart began to pound.

"Freia. My father was Thráin."

"They sound lovely." Thorin outright laughed at that, propping his head up with his hand.

" _Lovely._  My father wouldn't have known what to do with a compliment like that."

Bilbo grinned. "What should've I have said?"

"Nothing, lovely is just fine." They both laughed at that and Thorin felt something finally sink into place. It was as though he'd been missing something his whole life thar only Bilbo could fill, like a puzzle without the final piece. Thorin knew what that sort of description was associated with, he knew what he was saying if he ever told anyone that. Thorin had always felt that his selfishness earlier in life had brought on his misfortune later, but perhaps he owed it to himself to admit it. Even if Bilbo did not share the same regard, Thorin would manage. But he knew what he was feeling, and he would face it.

"How did you meet everyone? Bofur told me that he's always lived in Ered Luin, so you met him there, right?" 

* * *

Thorin scowled as he trudged back to camp, keeping his head down to avoid looking at any hobbits that came his way. He knew how wrong it was to be angry at a friend's happiness, let alone one who had struggled to find someone who would bring it to him for so long.

But it wasn't  _fair._ There had been only but a few tales of two people having the same One, but this, Bilbo was  _not_  Bofur's one. Yet, that dwarf thought that he could just take Bilbo right from him, when Thorin's heart finally came together and all but  _sung_  for the hobbit. Thorin clenched his fists at the thought of Bilbo with Bofur. When the hobbit had brought him up with such a delighted smile that Thorin's chest ached, the dwarf had felt jealousy swell up heavily inside of him. What if Bilbo truly was Bofur's One? What if the hobbit was meant for he who was more friendly than Thorin, more open, less aloof? What if Thorin was only a loose tie, something that was made in excess and cast off to the side?

No, it couldn't be. If Bilbo wanted someone friendly, someone who smiled, someone more like the toymaker, Thorin would change. He would try to be someone the hobbit could love, even of he had to give everything else up. It would be hard, and he could fail, but he would at least  _try._

But first things first, he had to eliminate the competition.

"Hey, there he is!" Fíli greeted as Thorin walked back into their camp. "He didn't even get lost this time!"

"I dunno, Fíli, he looks kinda mad. Uncle, did you get lost again?" Thorin turned on them so quickly that the young dwarves nearly flinched.

"Where is Bofur?"

"Mahal wept, what's wrong? He's off getting some firewood. Why?" Thorin turned towards the sound of wood being chopped a bit off and stalked towards it without a word to his nephews. No one dared follow him, only watching with a wary, bewildered eye. Bofur was chopping a log in half when Thorin approached, and he smiled and set down the axe when he noticed him.

"Ah, you're back. How it go? Bilbo's a smart lad, isn't he?"

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Thorin said, his voice low. Bofur's smile faltered in confusion.

"Thorin, what's wrong?"

"What are you and Bilbo? Friends?  _More_  than that?" Thorin asked, taking another step towards Bofur. The other dwarf seemed relatively calm, simply standing his ground and looking at Thorin is confusion.

"What are you goin' on about? Did you have some of that homebrew Mister Gamgee makes while you were there?"

"Answer me!" Thorin said sharply, pushing at Bofur. "What is he to you, Bofur?"

"A _friend._ " Bofur told him, brows furrowing as he searched Thorin's face for some sort of clue. 

"Do not lie to me." Thorin warned, staring him down. "How dare you try and take him from me? Have you any honor?"

"Take him from..." Bofur repeated slowly, then his eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, you finally realized it, did you?"

"Realized that you are trying to take what is not yours, yes." Thorin growled, taking another step towards him. "Where does your honor lie, Bofur? What valor is there in a dwarf who steals!?" 

"Nori would throw a fit if he heard you say that." Bofur joked, then gave Thorin a level look after he shook his head "I'm not stealin' anyone."

"You  _lie!_ " Thorin yelled, and gave Bofur a hard shove. "Bilbo is not yours!"

"He isn't yours either, Thorin." Bofur said calmly, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you're accusin' me of, but you're wrong by doin' it."

"You are taking Bilbo from me, you dishonorable _whelp_!"

In an instant, any lasting humor disappeared from Bofur's eyes and his face became hard and set. Thorin regretted his words in an instant, but didn't back down even as Bofur gave him a look that would bring Dwalin to his knees. "If I didn't know what was makin' you say this, I'd cut off your beard for it. Tell me, Thorin? How am I stealin' Bilbo from you?"

"I don't have to tell you _anything_!"

"Say it! Just say it!"

"You smile at him, and you make him laugh, and he loves you for it!" Thorin yelled, his eyes alight. "You deserve him more than anything and it eats away at me!"

Bofur gave a hard, pitying laugh as he shook his head. "You're jealous over nothin'!"

"You are trying to take  _my_   One!"

The silence that descended over them was so thick that Thorin could nearly feel it. His head felt dizzy from finally admitting to the feeling that had plagued him for weeks, and he sought forgiveness from his friend. "Please Bofur. I could not bear to see him with another. He is, he's--"

"You absolute  _tit_ _._ " Bofur said in disbelief before a grin spread across his face. "I thought I'd seen dwarves at their worst because of love, but you certainly topped the scale." Bofur reached out and brought Thorin's forehead to his own. "I don't see Bilbo like that. I love him like family, nothin' more, you hear me? And to think,  _this_  is what you were glaring at me for all this time."

"I didn't  _glare_."

"Yes, you did. Constantly. I had no clue what I'd done to deserve it." Bofur said as he pulled away. Thorin could feel his shoulders droop in embarrassment. 

"I...I am sorry. My words were unjust and--"

"Ah, forget about it. It's fine." Bofur said, waving his hand. "Love does funny things to people, you know? You think you know a guy and then he goes and falls in love and he's about as prickly as a thistle. Besides, we'd all been waitin' for you to finally say somethin' about it for weeks, and you just won me a few bets as it was."

"Won you a few bets--" Thorin spluttered in outrage, but was cut off when Bofur began to laugh.

So, that was it. He was the only one with any interest in Bilbo. The thought itself was like a cool breeze blowing over him, taking the hot, ugly jealousy and replacing it with hope. He could do this, this just might work out.

"Wait,  _weeks_? What do you mean  _weeks?_ "

"You weren't exactly hidin' it. Blushed about as red as a cherry when he gave you that ring--"

"I did  _not_!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update!! school starts in less than two weeks for me and things are going to be a bit hectic for a while
> 
> i'm also going to be without a computer from tomorrow until next sunday, so there will not be an update until then (the next update will be two chapters however)
> 
> and the explanation of khuzdul along with the first example used by thorin comes from the dwarrow scholar's lovely khuzdul lessons uvu


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations: 
> 
> Amad - Mother  
> Alanjuz ghelekh. Zûr zu? - Good afternoon. How are you?  
> Ghelekhur, razu? - Fine, and you?  
> Sul ghelekh bakûr ra turg. - All is well with axe and beard

If someone were to ask Bilbo what Thorin was to him, they'd get a firm answer of  _good friend_  and that would be the end of it.

If Hamfast Gamgee were to ask, he'd get the same answer and most likely a swat on the arm for that confounded look he gave Bilbo when the question came up.

If Bilbo were to ask himself, well, Bilbo wouldn't be able to give a straight answer. That was not to say that Thorin was not a good friend, for he truly was, but Bilbo couldn't help but wonder if there could be something more between them. Bilbo knew that any feelings he had were hardly reciprocated, but who was to predict Thorin would say that way if Bilbo gathered the courage to say something? He was hardly a dwarf, but perhaps something close to a miracle could happen and Thorin would feel the same as he.

Miracles however, were a very rare thing indeed. 

* * *

Khuzdul lessons were a joy, as well as a horror for Bilbo.  Thorin was a great teacher, patient and gentle in his corrections, actually smiling whenever Bilbo said something so badly it was hardly recognizable.  It was wonderful to be taught in such a way, yet the teacher who made it so great was also the one who made the whole ordeal a struggle to get through. Never in his life had Bilbo been anything less than attentive when there was a task at hand, but it seemed that each time Thorin sat down with him and began to talk, his focus moved from the language that he should've been very grateful to be able to learn to the one teaching it, and he was  _not_  paying attention to the words he was saying.

Bilbo knew how immature he was acting by being that was but he just couldn't help it. Anyone who could _see_ would stop to get a second look at Thorin, and even if they couldn't see, that  _voice_  would have them dead in their tracks. With hobbits, good looks included round stomachs and neatly combed feet, two things Thorin did not have. Instead, he was all beard, muscles and a voice that drove Bilbo's mind to some thoughts that weren't wholly appropriate. Besides, it wasn't as though he was the only one to notice such things. He would see hobbits craning their necks and standing on the tips of their toes to get a good glance at Thorin in the marketplace, and the looks he was getting from some at the Harvest Festival! Bilbo knew jealousy was an awful trait, but it simply would not die down whenever he thought back to it. Thankfully, no one had been bold enough to ask him to dance, as Bilbo's temper would've just  _snapped_  and someone wouldn't have made it out alive. But, thankfully, no such thing happened.

Bilbo had come to realize that what he was feeling was no passing fancy, borne out of loneliness and exposure to the dwarf. He didn't have a good reason as to why he knew that, other than a simple gut feeling. While his father had always preferred rationality and logic, his mother was more likely to go off on a whim with only her heart leading her. Bungo's ways were discredited after he married Belladonna of course, so Bilbo had grown up following his mother's nature with only a slight Baggins damper on it. That had taken a turn after his father died, Bilbo quickly becoming more Baggins than anything, but perhaps the Took in him was making a comeback.

Bilbo scurried around Bag End, cleaning and fixing little things that seemed to be out of place. It was unlike him to be nervous when he had people coming over, but Thorin was no mere person. Of course, Bilbo suspected that he wouldn't notice if Bilbo cleaned anything around Bag End, but the energy and time it took to do so was comforting nonetheless. He moved to put the kettle on when a knock came to the door, frenzied and quick. Thorin would never knock in such a way without reason, so Bilbo made haste as he went to the door, opening it and barely managing not to be shoved to the ground when Fíli and Kíli burst in.

"Quick, shut the door, shut!" Kíli said, grinning when it shut and Fíli leaned against it. Bilbo huffed and put his hands on his hips.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Hi Bilbo, Uncle is going to be very cross with us, so don't let him in, okay?" Fíli said and Bilbo spluttered.

"Dont let him--answer my question you nuisances!"

"We wanted to come by to help with your Khuzdul lesson, but Uncle said no." Kíli explained. Bilbo nodded, then shook his head.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because," Fíli said, a glint in his eye. " _We_  said yes."

The dwaves jumped at the sound of a heavy knock on the door, one that was clearly irritated. Fíli and Kíli shared a look before quickly shucking off their boots and scurrying off into the kitchen. Bilbo sighed and ran a weary hand over his face as he opened the door again.

Thorin's expression wasn't thunderous, but it was most certainly getting there. His cheeks had a splash of color on them and Bilbo realized that he must've all but ran here in an attempt to catch up with his nephews.

"Bilbo." He said cordially, then grimaced. "Where are they?"

Bilbo considered lying and saying that they weren't here, only to throw the both of them out a window, but decided against it. "In the kitchen. Oh, Thorin wait!" He said when the dwarf walked in and tried to head off for them. "First, boots." Bilbo smiled as he rolled his eyes before complying. He gathered the three pairs of boots up and neatened them beneath the coat hooks before continuing. "They just want to help, let them! I mean, what's the worst they can do?"

"Is that a challenge?" Kíli called, then shut up with a yelp as the sound of someone being pushed to the floor echoed through the smial. Bilbo swallowed and reached out to take Thorin's arm, dutifully ignoring the way his heart sped at the contact.

"Come on, it'll be fine. You wouldn't let them get away with anything, and if they try to teach me things I shouldn't know, you can put a stop to it!" He reasoned as he and Thorin walked into the kitchen. Fíli and Kíli were seated together on one side of the table, the younger dwarf's hair looking mused from his tumble moments earlier. Thorin gave them a look of exasperation and aggravation, to which they only smiled back. Bilbo just managed to hold back his laugh as he pulled Thorin over to sit down.

"So Bilbo, what do you know so far?" Fíli asked, taking a cookie from the plate Bilbo had set out and giving half to his brother. Bilbo glanced at Thorin for a moment, then took a breath when he gave him an encouraging smile. 

" _Alanjuz_   _ghelekh_ _._ _Zûr_   _zu_ _?_ " Bilbo said, not tripping over his words as much as he expected to. Fíli shared a delighted look with Kíli and grinned.

" _Ghelekhur_ _,_ _razu_ _?_ " He replied, beaming as Bilbo repeated his phrase under his breath.

" _Sul_   _ghelekh_   _bakûr_   _ra_   _turg_ _._ " Bilbo said his response slower than his first, having a bit more difficulty with the words. He knew he had done a fine job when Kíli laughed.

"Axe and beard my ass, you don't have either!"

Bilbo looked over at Thorin and grinned at the wide smile on his face. "Yes well, I'm afraid your language really is made for dwarves."

"Nonsense, we simply haven't made any...hobbit appropriate responses yet." Thorin told him and Bilbo laughed.

"Should I switch axe and beard out for home and pantry?"

"You invited my nephews into your home, I don't think either of those will remain well the longer you keep them here."

"Hey!" Kíli's outraged cry made Bilbo laugh again, ducking his head. He glanced at Thorin and found a fond smile on his face, despite having been angry with the brothers earlier. It made his heart pound to see such an open, loving expression on the dwarf's face, and Bilbo hoped that one day he would be able to see it turned on him.

"Yes, well." Thorin said, clearing his throat. "Let's get on with it then. You two," he said sharply. "Shut up and don't interrupt."

"Ooo, he rhymed. We better listen!" Fíli said to his brother in a mock fear, and the brothers clutched at each other. Bilbo pressed his lips together to keep from smiling and instead turned to Thorin.

"So, what is it today?"

"More phrases," Thorin told him, reaching for the paper and quill Bilbo had taken to setting out for each lesson. "And to see how much of the alphabet you can recognize so far."

Bilbo watched as Thorin took care to write two words, the paper rasping as the quill scratched against it. He passed both over to the hobbit and gestured to the words.

"Rewrite it and tell me what it says."

Bilbo chewed on his bottom lip as he formed the letters, hand trying to revert back to Westron. "It's my name." He said, handing the paper and quill back when he had finished.

"Good, good." Thorin murmured, writing again. Bilbo looked at Fíli and Kíli to find them engrossed in want Thorin was writing, obviously trying to read it upside down.

"Your form is good." Fíli told Bilbo quietly, smiling. "Especially since your writing is so...circular."

"I keep wanting to round things off." Bilbo admitted, taking the paper and quill back again. "Just ask your uncle, it took me days before I would stop adding dots to the tops of the letters." 

"Oh Mahal's hammer, that was awful. I thought it was the quill at first and you didn't tell me otherwise." Thorin lamented, and Bilbo snorted.

"I was wondering why you didn't correct me at first." He replied as he rewrote Thorin's words. "No matter, at least I have it under control now."

"Do you? You just added a dot to that letter." Kíli said absentmindedly. Bilbo groaned and scratched out the whole word before writing it again.

"It says that you two are idiots, by the way."

"That's  _mean_ , Uncle." Fíli complained, acting wounded. Kíli nodded dutifully. 

"We better tell _Amad_ in the next letter."

"Oh, you're exchanging letters with your family again?" Bilbo asked as Thorin set to writing again. The brothers nodded.

"Yep. We sent letters along with some Rangers, and now we're just waiting for the reply. _Amad_ has ravens, so they should be here soon." Fíli told him and Bilbo smiled.

"You miss her and your father, hm?"

"Yeah. Uncle Frerin too." Kíli said quietly, eating the last cookie. "But, _Amad_ will probably refuse to let us out of her sight for the next hundred years, so we're enjoying the freedom as long as we have it!"

Thorin snorted. "She's going to have my beard for not getting in contact sooner. I'll be using you two as dwarf shields."

" _Amad_ won't care! She'll tear us apart just to get to you!" Fíli protested. Bilbo smiled.

"You all make her sound terrifying."

"She  _is._ " Kíli insisted. "If you're ever in trouble, hiding behind her skirts is is then safest option available."

"She used to make Dwalin cry when we were kids." Thorin said, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I like her the more and more I hear." Fíli and Kíli beamed while Thorin caught Bilbo's eye and gave him a soft smile. The hobbit could feel his face heat as he smiled back, quickly looking down as Thorin passed the paper back. Instead of a few words or a simple sentence, there was a short paragraph, only a few lines in length. Bilbo set to work on it, mumbling the words slowly in an attempt to focus his attention elsewhere. It was just plain inappropriate to be fawning over Thorin the way he was now, especially with Fíli and Kíli sitting right there. What would they even  _think_  if they knew how he felt? Bilbo didn't think that they would necessarily be negative towards him if they found out, but what did he know? Maybe they would be completely adverse to Bilbo being anymore than a friend to their uncle.

"Having trouble?" Kíli asked. Bilbo looked up and realized he must've just been staring at the paper, appearing as if he was stuck on a word.

"A bit." He lied, jotting down some of the runes he had trailed off on. Thorin leaned in close to him, their arms brushing as he silently read where Bilbo had left off.

"It says Broadbreams." Thorin told him quietly, pointing and tapping the paper lightly. Bilbo had deciphered as much, but nodded and wrote it enthusiastically nonetheless. A groan went up between Fíli and Kíli and he gave them an inquisitive look.

"You're teaching stuff about the other clans?" Kíli whined. "It's  _so_  boring!"

"I'm only telling him the names, be quiet." Thorin retorted, rolling his eyes. Bilbo set down the quill and looked over at Thorin.

"So the clans of dwarves are like races in Men?"

"Similar, yes." Thorin said. "There are only seven distinct clans with my kind however, while Men vary much more from what I've seen."

"You're still more varied than us hobbits." Bilbo reported with a smile. "We've only three races, and they all mingled together so that it has become just one big group."

"Really?" Thorin said, his tone interested. "So you all just look similar?"

"Well, mostly yes. Those with Stoor blood are a bit more heavy set than most though. They can even grow a beard, believe it or not."

"I'm assuming that you don't have any Stoor blood then?" Fíli asked dryly, then grinned when Bilbo shot him a withering look.

"Sorry, my face will remain as bare as the day I was born. Do I not meet dwarven beauty standards?" Bilbo asked sarcastically. Fíli and Kíli shared a look.

"You don't really fit them, but you're still very comely." The younger brother answered. "If you ever came to Ered Luin I'm sure you'd have courting proposals by the end of the first week. Don't you agree, Uncle?"

Bilbo sent a wild look at Thorin, one part of him hoping that the dwarf would agree, and another not wanting to even  _know_ what he thought. Thorin looked rather alarmed to see the least and Bilbo looked down at the paper in embarrassment when he fumbled for answer.

"Yes, well, we don't know that as er, _some_ dwarves don't find hairless faces attractive, so--"

A knock at the door ceased Thorin's struggling reply and Bilbo mumbled a pardon as he went to answer it. His face felt hot as he walked down the hall, mortified that Fíli and Kíli had asked him that. Ever worse, Thorin couldn't even  _answer_  the question! Oh, what if he knew how Bilbo felt? What if he simply didn't say anything because he didn't want to give the wrong impression? Bilbo sighed in misery as he opened the door.

"Grandfather!" Bilbo looked at Gerontius in surprise, used to simply going to see the hobbit rather than having a visit being paid to him. The hobbit leaned against the carved cane with a strong hand, gnarled from age. He gave Bilbo a grin and stepped inside, foregoing any customary manners. Bilbo had always been quite close with his grandfather, and any pretense of acting as a host was thrown to the wind when he dropped by for a visit.

"Ah, Bilbo my lad. I need to talk to you. Are you busy?"

"Well, uh--" Bilbo began, but cut off when his grandfather caught sight of the boots under the coat hooks. The old hobbit raised an eyebrow and Bilbo blushed right to the tips of his ears.

"Oh, hold on! They were only visiting." Bilbo said and he hurried off to the kitchen. Thorin was whispering something to Fíli and Kíli rather heatedly, and Bilbo hesitated a moment before clearing his throat.

"Sorry to be rude, but I must cut the lesson short. My grandfather has matters to discuss with me." Fíli and Kíli whined in protest, while Thorin looked rather resigned, if not displeased. He gave them a look that had them quieting down and  begrudgingly rising from the table. Gerontius had come into the kitchen doorway by then, and smiled and nodded as the dwarves passed by him. Bilbo held up a finger in a gesture for more time, which he was given easily.

"I'm sorry about this." Bilbo said as the dwarves stuffed their feet back into their respective boots. Thorin finally met his gaze and smiled slightly.

"It's alright. I'm sure this business is far more important than the lesson." He said earnestly. Bilbo huffed a breath and led Thorin to the door, Fíli and Kíli already having gone outside.

"I'll come see you once I figure out what's going on. This could be a family affair, it could be more." Bilbo sighed and leaned against the round door frame. "I'll talk to you later."

"Give the Thain my regards." Thorin replied, then smiled. "Goodbye, Bilbo." 

"Goodbye, Thorin." Bilbo replied, a soft smile working its way up onto his face. He closed the door and leaned against it, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Oh, you poor boy."

Bilbo just about jumped out of his skin at his grandfather's voice, exhaling shakily. "Do  _not_  do that! And don't call me boy!"

Gerontius gave him a wry grin and beckoned for him to follow back into the kitchen. Bilbo grumbled under his breath as he did so, his attitude completely over being polite.  The old hobbit groaned as he settled down, leaning his cane against the table. Bilbo finally put on the kettle, having abandoned it for the frantic knocking at the door earlier. "So, what brings you by? Is Lobelia complaining about me again?"

Gerontius gave a soft laugh. "I wish it were something so trivial, lad."

Bilbo dusted his hands on his trousers and gave his grandfather an odd look. "You're being serious. You don't do serious, what's wrong?" The hobbit's tone took a frantic edge as he returned to sit at the table. "Is someone sick? Are  _you_ sick? Oh, Grandfather why--"

"Hush now, I'm alright." Gerontius soothed, patting his grandson's hand. "Everyone is fine."

"What is it then? Please don't play games with me, my heart can't take it these days."

"Boy, you'd think you were as old as me with talk like that." The older hobbit grumbled, but his flicker of a smile died soon after. "I've been made aware of dangerous news. You're head of the Baggins family, and clever as always. As such, I needed to discuss it with you."

"Dangerous news?" Bilbo repeated, his hand going up to his mouth as he chewed at a fingernail. "What sort?"

"It would be foolish of me to ask if you remembered the Fell Winter." He began and Bilbo could  _feel_  his mouth go dry and his throat close up.

"You...no, it can't happen again, can it?" Bilbo asked, finding it hard to swallow. Of course he remembered the Fell Winter. He remembered the harvest being full and indulging and everyone saying that it was just a bit colder than usual. He remembered being told to put more meat on his bones for the upcoming months and gorging himself regularly as was the way of hobbits, and he remembered when the cold did not let up. He remembered the snow blanketing everything and making firewood hard to find and freezing constantly. He remembered, clear as day, the howls of the wolves after they crossed over the Brandywine River and wrecked havoc in an already unstable Shire. He remembered the blood in the snow after Bungo had been bit, and he remembered losing friends to cold and hunger and his parents giving him every last morsel that was unable to fill in his gaunt cheeks. How could he ever forget?

"I would not bring it up if it was not a possibility." The Old Took said somberly. "Bilbo, you know as well as I do that the harvests haven't been as good in recent years as they have say, 5 years ago. The frost lasted longer than before, and I fear that we've only noticed it now because frankly, we weren't looking."

"What made you look now then?" Bilbo demanded. "We...we should be able to see something like this! It's only October, how can you know?"

"It is a feeling." Gerontius stressed. "A bad feeling, that is brought on by old age most likely. But age has brought me wisdom, and I have been looking since that fateful year. The winter has creeped in on us through the years. I know you've felt the cold more acutely this year than last as well. You made cloaks for those two young dwarves, didn't you? I heard about you buying heaps of fabric from the family gossips."

"They're hardy, you know." Bilbo said softly. He ran a finger along the grain in the wood of the table. "But they're forgetful. They'd freeze so easily." Bilbo thought back to the reports of hobbits who had died from exposure by going without a proper coat, or fauntlings made orphans because their parents sacrificed their own warmth for them. Fíli and Kíli were no dwarflings, but Bilbo knew that anything could happen.

"You're fond of them, hm?"

"Very." Bilbo admitted. "They're like family, you know? I just...I feel drawn to them. I won't have any harm come their way."

"I don't know what we can do about this." Gerontius said quietly. "We can advise to stock food, but hobbits will forget, or call me an old fool. We can cut down trees, but it'll be marked as paranoia. We're a lucky race; no war, no bloodshed." Gerontius finally looked as though his age was catching up with him as he gazed down at his hands. He gave a weary sigh. "We're soft. If this is as bad as we're predicting, hobbits will die."

"We'll be powerless like last time." Bilbo spat bitterly, quickly standing up to fetch the ready kettle. He swallowed heavily as he made the tea, the silence between he and his grandfather deafening.

"I sent for him. You won't mind putting up with him, would you?"

"What, that meddling old wizard?" Bilbo mused quietly. "I would be happy to. I haven't seen him since...since Mother died."

"He'll be in an uproar about missing your 40th birthday." Gerontius laughed slightly. "Gandalf can always see what's to come better than we can. He should know what to do, or at least have some advice."

"I won't have us go into this blind again." Bilbo said firmly. "I know you won't either, but I'll do whatever I can to prevent it. I'll even ask Thorin to coach me with fighting if it means I can teach it to someone else and find a way to protect more of us from and beasts that might come again."

"Hobbits fighting along dwarves, can you imagine?" The old hobbit said with a small grin. Bilbo shook his head.

"Nonsense. They'll be back in Ered Luin before the cold sets in, I'm sure. They all miss their family, I wouldn't keep them much longer."

"But you want to." Gerontius turned in his seat to look at Bilbo. "You want him to. Or your heart does, at least."

Bilbo shook his head. Oh, was he that obvious? "A heart's desire should be advised by the head's sense."

"Pah, sense." Gerontius said disdainfully as he took the cup of tea Bilbo gave to him. "You're a Took my boy, and the son of probably one of the most senseless Bagginses yet. Your father followed his heart, didn't he?"

"This is different." Bilbo insisted. "He's a dwarf!"

"But that doesn't matter to you!" Gerontius wrapped his hands around the warm mug. "It would only matter to those stuffy Sacksville-Bagginses. Who gives a toss what they think?"

"They're leaving soon." Bilbo nearly whispered. "I asked how long they stayed in each location before, and two months was the limit, as far as Fíli told me. He's the blonde one, by the way." Bilbo added quickly, then smiled. "He's Thorin's nephew."

Gerontius shook his head as he sipped at his cup of tea. "You're besotted."

"Perhaps." Bilbo replied, nodding. "Perhaps I am." 

* * *

Bilbo swore that if Gandalf gave that "arriving precisely when he means to" nonsense to him, he would shut the door in his face without so much a goodnight.

Gerontius had gone on his way with a promise to be back tomorrow. Bilbo had settled down for supper, making double for Gandalf, and the same with dinner. Yet, time hadn't showed him hide nor hair of the wizard and sent Bilbo's flicker of a good mood away. He went through his normal nightly routine, cleaning, washing the dishes then bathing and finally settling down into the parlour. Bilbo set to trying to read the book Oín had given him for his birthday, filled with various recipes for certain salves or herbs themselves to look for. It was an interesting read, truly, but Bilbo couldn't get his mind off of one dwarf in particular.

Even his _g_ _randfather_  knew. At the ripe old age of 130, his sight was still good enough to see just how badly Bilbo had it. Perhaps hobbits were just able to pick up on it easier than most. The Shire wasn't a place for violence or hate, and love was rampant. Maybe half the hobbits in Hobbiton knew, just from watching Bilbo go down to the market each day. If they all knew, how long before the dwarves got word of it?

Bilbo remembered a conversation with Thorin during a Khuzdul lesson earlier that week, after they'd gotten into the topic of the dwarf's life back in Ered Luin. It had been awkward, a bit hard to move past, but Bilbo's heart had soared.

_"So, have anyone back home?" Bilbo asked, taking a sip of his tea. Thorin raised an eyebrow._

_"My family, as you know."_

_"No, not like that!"_ _Bilbo_ _said."I_ _meant_ _like a wife, or a lass_ _you're_ _courting." He took another sip of his tea to hide his embarrassment over how blatant his interest was. "Or a lad!_ _That's_ _fine too."_

_"Why_ _wouldn't_ _it be fine though?" Thorin asked curiously. "Is that not practiced here?"_

_Bilbo gave a low laugh. "_ _It's_ _actually pretty uncommon. Some of the older hobbits are against it, but ones around my age could hardly_ _care_ _. They can marry if they wish, but some_ _don't_ _._ _It's_ _just..._ _it's_ _just something that happens."_

_"I_ _don't_ _have a wife." Thorin said suddenly, answering Bilbo's_ _first_   _question_ _. "Or a husband. Not courting anyone either."_

_"Really?" Bilbo asked, surprised. Sure it_ _would've_ _hurt to know Thorin was taken, but seriously? "A fellow like you?_ _You'd_ _be getting proposals everyday if you were a hobbit." Bilbo murmured something about the oddity of dwarves into his cup. Thorin looked rather amused as he watched Bilbo._

_"What about you?"_ _Thorin_ _asked. "Off courting someone with your spare time? Or are you simply hiding your spouse from us?"_

_Bilbo_ _choked on his tea, setting down the cup as he coughed. "Me? Oh, oh no. Free as a bird I am."_

_"No wife?"_

_"I should hardly_ _thi_ _nk my spouse would be a lass." Bilbo said dryly, and watched with a keen eye as Thorin_ _caught_ _his meaning. To Bilbo's confusion, a splash of color began to rise up on_ _Thorin's_ _cheeks. Oh, wonderful,_ _he'd_ _gone and_ _embarrassed_ _himself_ _hadn't_ _he?_

_"Sorry, I--"_

_"No,_   _it's_ _fine." Thorin said quickly. He looked a little hot around the collar as he searched for words. "I am...also somewhat partial to males."_

_"Somewhat?" Bilbo echoed, his voice_ _neutral_ _as he practically jumped for joy. That was good news, that was very good news._

_"_ _I've_ _ah, been with both."_ _Thorin_ _managed, and Bilbo_ _couldn't_ _help but smile at how_ _embarrassed_   _Thorin_ _was. From the way the company talked, he had come to think dwarves to be very open about this sort of thing, but perhaps they were simply an_ _exceptio_ _n. Or, Thorin was just easily flustered, something Bilbo found quite endearing, in all honesty._

* * *

Bilbo sighed as he played with the edges of the book's pages, fluttering them with his finger. He couldn't ignore what he was feeling, not for much longer. There wasn't an exact name for what made his heart flutter when he looked at Thorin, or how his chest ached at the sight of him smiling. He was so, so beautiful, and Bilbo wanted him. He needed him. But, Thorin was leaving soon. They had perhaps a week left at most, and Bilbo felt a headache come on at the thought of such a short time. Was being able to learn Khuzdul a goodbye gift? A way of saying to come visit? Ered Luin was a three day trip from a Shire, quite short compared to other places. But he didn't want to have to wait three days to see Thorin. He wanted to be able to reach out and touch him, to see his smile and hear his voice when he woke in the morning and fell asleep at night.

Thorin didn't have anyone waiting for him, making him open to any advance Bilbo might make. What could Bilbo do though? He had been told by his friends how easy starting a courtship was, and how he would find someone one day. But now, he had to person he wanted, and no clue on how to tell them as such. He wished to court Thorin, he really did. But a week was not enough time, not in any circumstance, and Bilbo couldn't just ask Thorin to stay in the Shire. With the news the Thain had brought, he couldn't up and leave either. He was the head of the Baggins family, and he needed to act like it. Thorin was dedicated to his family, being hardly of age when he moved them out of his home and to a place that was safe. He had lost just as Bilbo had, but came out stronger because of it. Bilbo had wallowed in grief and depression until he met the dwarf, and suddenly it was as though he could  _feel_  again, and he knew what he had been missing all his life. Bilbo had to be stronger, for Thorin and for himself. He would let Thorin leave, wait until the next spring, then go after him. It was enough time to think up a plan, and enough time to sort everything out if it all turned out alright.

A knock on the door snapped Bilbo from his thinking and he set the book down as he hurried off to open it.

"Good evening." A low voice rumbled from beneath a white beard and the wide brim of a blue hat. "This wouldn't be Bag End, by any chance, would it?"

"You're late." Bilbo declared, holding his irritated expression as Gandalf looked at him finally.

"A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to, Bilbo Baggins!"

"I said that I would shut the door on you if you said that to me," Bilbo told him with a grin. "But I've missed you too much to do such a thing. Welcome back, Gandalf!"

The old wizard smiled fondly as he stepped into the smial, arms open as he embraced the hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins. My, you've grown since I last saw you."

Bilbo laughed as he took Gandalf's hat and staff and went to set them over at the coat hooks. "Perhaps you've grown shorter!"

"Hm, and that tongue of yours is still as sharp as ever." Gandalf countered, just avoiding hitting his head on the chandelier as he followed Bilbo towards the kitchen.

"You missed dinner and supper, you know. I made plenty for you, and then you never showed up!"

"Well, I am here now." Gandalf said kindly, folding himself down to sit at the table. "And supper would be lovely."

"Tea?"

"Wine, actually. I've been dealing with exhausting folk as of lately."

"Hm, you and I both." Bilbo said, stirring the still warm stew before pouring some into a bowl. Gandalf took it with a smile and a murmur of thanks as Bilbo went off to grab a bottle of wine for the wizard, though the hobbit supposed that he would have some as well. Bilbo blew out the candles in the wine cellar after grabbing the bottle, a sweet, tangy drink that Gandalf had always favored, then came back upstairs. Gandalf set down his spoon as Bilbo poured some for the both of them, then settled down at the table. The silence between them was comfortable as Gandalf ate and drank, and Bilbo sipped at his wine. The wizard looked thew same as ever, though perhaps his bears was a bit longer and his eyebrows a tad bushier. Either way, it was still the same person who had been a common face in his childhood, and held a dear place in his mother's heart.

At long last, Gandalf set down his spoon with a smile. "So," he began, "what is this talk that I've heard about you and dwarves?"


	11. Chapter 11

Perhaps he was being a bit irrational.

Perhaps he was being completely logical.

Either way, Thorin hadn't seen Bilbo for three days, with not so much as a message that said he was even still  _alive_ , and frankly, Thorin was losing his mind over it for more than one reason.

Already, two weeks had passed since they began their first Khuzdul lesson, and having something unplanned cut into the already meager frame of time Thorin had was aggravating to say the least. The trip back home would take three days, and the company all wanted time to rest before Durin's Day, leaving them with only mere days left. Thorin hadn't been able to tell Bilbo of their departure, despite knowing how cruel it was to keep him in the dark. The thought of having to say goodbye for an unknown amount of time was too much for him to bear, even if something had to be said.

Despite having so little time left, Thorin had chose not to seek out Bilbo to ask about when the next lesson would take place. The times varied, with Thorin coming as soon as he was off from work that day, or later as supper neared, and if it hadn't worked for him, Thorin knew he would've said so. Perhaps, that was why he was so worried. Bilbo certainly wasn't the type to forget all about something like this, even if he had additional stress from whatever the Thain had come by to talk about. Thorin could understand Bilbo not having the time to see him for a day, but three? Something wasn't right, and Thorin had enough of not knowing.

"What if he's sick?" Kíli asked as the company sat around for lunch, grieving the loss of their hobbit and his food. They of course, had bought from the stands surrounding them like usual, but there was nothing like nicking food and having Bilbo pretend not to notice. "I mean, the Thain was there so maybe he went to give Bilbo news of his health or something."

"Yeah, he looked pretty serious." Fíli agreed. "But I'm fairly sure that Bilbo would get that kind of news from a healer, not his grandfather."

Thorin stared down at the seedcake with worry building in his stomach and killing his appetite. What if Bilbo  _was_  sick? Was this something he had been keeping from them, only to have it finally catch up with him now?

"He could've fallen." Ori supplied unhelpfully, only increasing Thorin's unease. "You know, taken a tumble getting out of the tub or something. A bad head injury like that and you'd be out like a candle."

"With such a soft head too?" Dwalin commented, nodding. "Aye, he'd be in for a mighty big injury."

Thorin found it hard to swallow, his fingers itching to throw down his lunch and race to Bag End. Poor Bilbo, he could've been injured and weak, unable to get help and they were all just sitting here, leaving him to suffer. Thorin inhaled deeply and tried not to focus on the heavy feeling that was beginning to fill his heart.

"You know, I heard some hobbits talkin' earlier." Nori supplied. "Said that a cart was up at Bag End. The way they were goin' on about it, I'd say many people don't like the sight of it. Somethin' bad must've happened."

Thorin's heart promptly dropped, as did his seedcake when he stood up sharply. The company didn't seem to notice, continuing to talk about it.

"I figured that Mister Gamgee would tell us if somethin' happened though." Bofur argued. "He's a good fellow, not the type to leave us in the dark."

"Not unless he only found out himself!" Gloín interjected. "Maybe he's too busy grieving to--"

"Enough!"

The chatter ceased there as they all turned to look at Thorin, eyes wide from his outburst. Several hobbits looked their way and murmured to themselves, but Thorin could hardly care.

"I'm going to check on him. Please," Thorin begged. "Just stop all this talk of accidents and grieving."

Even those in the company who had never met their One had heard enough stories of the suffering that came to those who lost their soulmates, from the flaring, rippling agony that came in waves at first to the residual ache long after they were gone. Even simple talk never sat well, making discomfort and anxiety cloud any dwarf's mind. The company all murmured apologies, looking thoroughly chastised and dumbfounded that something as important as their leader's One being the subject of the conversation.

Thorin kicked some dirt over his discarded lunch and went off from the smithy, knowing that he was excused from the few hours left in the work day. His chest ached as he walked and absentmindedly, he reached up to rub at it. He breathed in deeply, warding off the slight vertigo that had accompanied his panic. He was overreacting, he must've been.  _Someone_  would've noticed if Bilbo hadn't left in three days and gone to check on him, and certainly the news would've spread like fire. Yes, he was sure everything was fine.

Thorin could feel his breath hitch when he spotted the wagon Nori had spoken of earlier, and felt a bit sick as the unease rushed forward into the front of his mind again. It was really just a simple wagon, nothing that should've weighed on his mind. But when he had  _no_  clue what had happened to Bilbo, or the reason the cart was even there for, he felt that his panic was justified.

The dwarf rapped on the door quickly, and focused on breathing. It wouldn't do any good for Bilbo to see him worried, as it would only make the poor hobbit himself fret and apologize. The sound of heavy footsteps that were noticeably  _not_  Bilbo's own, nor those of any hobbit, all but sent Thorin flying inside. Fortunately, he didn't have to move, as the door opened the next instant, and Thorin found himself staring at a man in a grey robe.

"Good afternoon." The man greeted, and it took a moment for the surprise to wear off before Thorin felt his suspicion and worry fill his consciousness again.

"Where is he?" Thorin demanded, trying to look past the man and see if he could spot Bilbo. The man stayed firmly rooted where he was, smiling slightly.

"He who?" Thorin clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to push past him. Bilbo had always insisted that it was okay for the dwarves to knock and then just walk inside, but entering another's home without their permission was extremely impolite to dwarves. So Thorin stood there, glaring at the man and wondering just what had become of Bilbo.

"Bilbo." He bit out, inhaling deeply. The man's smile grew as he nodded.

"Ah, so you must be one of his dwarves. He had quite a bit to say about you, believe it or not. Now, which one are you? Not Bombur, no, Bilbo said he was rather large--"

"Thorin!" The dwarf looked past the man as Bilbo came trotting up behind him, bringing relief that crashed over Thorin in heavy waves. He felt the tension seep out of his frame to see Bilbo unharmed, and looking no worse for wear than he had when he had bid him goodbye last. "Oh, Gandalf move! You were harassing him, were you?"

"Me? Harassing dwaves?" The man _\--Gandalf--_ said, affronted. "I would never!" 

Bilbo snorted as Gandalf moved, allowing the hobbit enough room to grab Thorin's wrist and pull him inside. "I'm sorry about him." Bilbo apologized, giving Thorin a smile. "Wizards, what can you do?"

"A w _izard?_ " Thorin repeated, looking between him and Bilbo quickly. Wizards were known for their powers, from little, meager things to things like healing, taking sickness away in one sweep. "Are you hurt? Sick? Why is he here?"

Gandalf nearly  _grinned_ , only fraying Thorin's nerves more. Bilbo shook his head and laughed slightly.

"Oh no, none of that! Gandalf here is an old friend, actually."

"An old friend?" Thorin repeated, giving Bilbo a look. "You are old friends with a wizard?"  

Bilbo flushed slightly, realizing how ridiculous it must've sounded. "Well, he's more of a family friend to me I suppose..."

"His grandfather is one of my closest friends." Gandalf commented, a cheerful quirk to his mouth. "I've know Bilbo since he was but a babe."

"Alright, yes thank you, Gandalf." Bilbo said quickly, shooting him a look. The hobbit turned his attention back to Thorin with a smile. "I was in the back garden, care to join me?"

"It would be my pleasure." Thorin replied, shooting a mistrustful look at Gandalf before following. The wizard had a scrutinizing look in his eye as he watched Thorin, as if he trying to place him somewhere. The dwarf bristled under the look and focused on following Bilbo instead.

The back garden Bilbo had spoken of was actually more than that, the area including much more than just a garden. The yard was wide and open, with soft green grass and various flowers and blooms decorating the perimeter. Thorin saw one of the plant beds that Bilbo had been working at, the dirt staying in one neat patch. The dwarf felt a smile grow on his face when he spotted the tools he had gifted Bilbo laid out nearby, pride filling up his heart.

"I'm terribly sorry that I didn't come tell you that I wouldn't be able to have a lesson, that was quite rude of me." Bilbo apologized, moving to sit down on a wooden bench. Thorin followed him, settling down next to Bilbo as he shook his head.

"No, it's quite alright. I was more worried that I hadn't seen you at all since then, in all honesty. We were unsure what had become of you." Thorin's tone took a slight joking edge, masking the worry and anxiety he had felt when Bilbo's well being was in question. Bilbo smiled softly at him and patted his hand.

"Yes, well, I'm not dead. Though I'm sure some of you were talking about just how true that was."

"They suggested that you had fallen while getting out of the tub and hit your head." Thorin told him, smiling when Bilbo gasped in offense.

"I'm far more graceful than that! Unbelievable, the nerve of you dwarves!"

Thorin laughed slightly. "I had no part in that conversation. Perhaps we simply have a poor choice in friends?"

"No, I think I did quite well in choosing you." Bilbo replied, and Thorin could practically feel his heart stop. Bilbo seemed to backtrack a little, his cheeks tinged pink as he cleared his throat. The dwarf felt something heavy settle in his stomach, chest aching at such tender words from one who didn't even know the regard Thorin held him in.

"I was uh, gardening." Bilbo said quickly. "You could help. That is, unless you have to be back at the smithy. I'd hate to keep from working--"

"No, I'm free for the rest of the day." Thorin said gently, giving Bilbo a smile. The hobbit returned it as he stood, rolling up the hem of one trouser leg that had come undone. "Though, I doubt that I'm much good at gardening."

"Oh nonsense!" Bilbo said, walking back over to the plant bed. Thorin kneeled as he did, watching as Bilbo talked about what he was up to. "I was planting kale since it's getting late in the year and it holds up well in the cold weather. Good to start it now, so that there will be some to use soon."

The hobbit's voice took an odd edge to it at the last part, but he still met Thorin's eyes, leading the dwarf not to dwell on it. Bilbo knew that he could talk to Thorin if something was troubling him, so he let it go.

"You need meat for the winter months." Thorin said as Bilbo went on to tell him that vegetables made up many of the dishes they would consume in the colder months. "It'll fill you up, put some fat on you that vegetables can't."

"We already slaughtered the animals for the winter." Bilbo replied. "Each year, the farmers raise animals for eating, and ones for work. Here in Hobbiton, a few cows and pigs go a long way."

"With an appetite like yours, I find that hard to believe." Thorin said dryly, making Bilbo laugh.

"Usually, winters don't last long here. Two months at most." Bilbo's expression flickered to something far more distressed than he should be, and Thorin hoped that it was only memories causing him so much trouble. "It...it can vary a bit, but we're always okay."

"I'm sure you are. Hobbit are very resilient creatures." Thorin said quietly, smiling when Bilbo gave him a soft look. They were so close together, and it would've been so easy for Thorin to simply duck in and kiss him. Bilbo Baggins, with dirt on his knees and under his fingernails and such a lovely, fond look on his face that it sent Thorin's mind reeling, wondering with such fervor if Bilbo shared the same sentiments.

But, he didn't move in, instead simply looking down at the dirt. Bilbo was troubled by something, that much was obvious, and Thorin refused to pull him into such a heavy situation when he wasn't at his best. Bilbo was his One, even if the feeling was not reciprocated, and he would not put him into a place where he was pressured to do anything.

Thorin eventually decided to test Bilbo's knowledge in a small lesson, and they carried on a normal conversation in Khuzdul. Bilbo's pronunciation had come a far way since when they first started, and the guttural sounds flowed effortlessly from his lips. It made Thorin's heart swell with pride to know how intelligent Bilbo was, and how hard he worked on the task at hand. They eventually turned to the subject of simply translating words in Westron to Khuzdul, from the simple things in Bilbo's yard to more difficult ones from other places. Some pronunciations were spot on from the first try, and others were so bad that it drove them to laughter. With either one, Thorin found himself smiling as his fingernails became caked with dirt and knees ached from kneeling for so long. Bilbo was a sight to behold, with autumn sun catching in his curls and making them shine like spun gold as they stuck to his perspiring skin. His smile was a bit lopsided when he made a poor attempt at a word, but it was as bright and beautiful as any. Thorin's chest ached at his beauty, and wondered what he had done to deserve someone so perfect as his One.

They had lapsed into silence eventually, with Thorin sitting back on the grass and Bilbo working at the plant bed. He smoothed dirt over the small holes where the seeds had been deposited, his eyes trained on the ground beneath him. Thorin wondered what time it was, estimating that it must've already been past the time when the market closed down and his company returned to camp. The letters from Ered Luin were due back any day, and truthfully, Thorin didn't know if he wanted to receive one.

Communication with home would only remind him of what a short time he had left, and just what he would be leaving behind when he left the Shire. Thorin missed his family dearly, wanting so badly to see how they had changed in the year and a half he had been gone. But at the same time, the thought of returning to his family without his One by his side was nearly too much to bear. As much as he loved Dís and Frerin, he would not live without Bilbo, and that meant leaving Ered Luin behind for good and living out the rest of his days in the Shire, so be it.

"You're brooding." Bilbo said softly, and Thorin looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"I do not brood."

"Yes, you do." Bilbo replied, smiling. His expression fell a bit the next instant. "You're leaving the Shire soon, aren't you?"

Thorin could feel his throat close up and he nodded before he realized what he was doing. "How did you know?"

"I asked Fíli how long you all stayed in one place usually, and he said a month or two. It's uh...getting to be nearly three months, so I just thought it'd be soon." Bilbo finished quietly, staring down at his hands. He looked so vulnerable to Thorin in that moment, and the dwarf realized that he must've felt like he was losing them as well.

"We'll come back." Thorin told him, smiling slightly. Bilbo's mouth quirked up at that, but his expression was still somber. "You could even come to Ered Luin. Us leaving...it isn't the end, Bilbo."

"I know, I know." The hobbit said, as if he as already told himself that many times. "It'll just be odd to not have you all here. You've messed up my daily routine, I should say."

Thorin laughed at that and nodded. "I'd be surprised if we didn't." Bilbo smiled and caught his gaze, their eyes locked. He was closer than ever, and the sadness that lingered in his eyes was nearly enough to drive Thorin to wrapping the hobbit up in his arms. He simply leaned forward and put his forehead against Bilbo's instead, both of their eyes closing. Bilbo knew by now that the gesture was reserved for family and very close friends, and the sentiment did not go unappreciated by him. Thorin could sense him smiling, not needing to see to know how Bilbo would've reacted.

"You should be getting back, hm? Wouldn't want them to think that the both of us are dead." Bilbo said, pulling away first. Thorin nodded slowly, not wanting to leave Bilbo's presence. But then again, if he lingered longer than necessary, his fellow dwarves would no doubt gossip and he didn't particularly want to deal with that.

"I can show myself out, don't worry." Thorin said when Bilbo made a move to stand. The hobbit opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and settled back down onto the grass. Thorin smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You will." Bilbo said firmly, a wry grin working it's way up onto his face. "Goodbye, Thorin."

"Goodbye, Bilbo." He replied, then disappeared into the smial. Thorin's heart and body felt lighter from knowing that Bilbo was safe, and he had forgotten all about the wizard until he once again stood in his path.

"Leaving, Master Thorin?" The dwarf practically jumped out of his boots when Gandalf spoke, leisurely sitting and smoking a pipe in Bilbo's front yard. Thorin exhaled and nodded.

"I am, Master Wizard." Gandalf leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as he looked at Thorin.

"You look familiar to me." Gandalf said, pursing his lips and tapping the stem of his pipe against them. "Might I know your father's name?"

"Thráin, son of Thrór." Thorin answered hesitantly, wondering why such a thing would even matter. Gandalf nodded and puffed away at his pipe.

"Pardon me, I may be mistaken. Good afternoon, Master Thorin." 

"Yes, good afternoon." Thorin replied quietly, sending him an odd look as he set off walking. Wizards were one of the Maiar, sent to Middle Earth to help the Valar shape the world. Why would his father's name matter so much to him, and if he was mistaken, why was however he thought Thorin was important? A small, nagging sensation at the back of his mind told him that there  _could_  be a reason, and that he had been waiting his whole life for it, but Thorin dutifully ignored it. He was not his father, nor his grandfather. 

* * *

The camp was bustling and filled with chatter when Thorin arrived, and immediately his nephews were upon him, ranting wildly.

"Uncle, the ravens came!" Kíli said excitedly, waving his letter too quickly for Thorin to see anything.

" _Amad_ sent her raven and yours, since she had a lot of messages. They've been waiting for you to get back for  _hours_!" Fíli interjected, gesturing behind him to where Ori sat, the ravens only a few steps from him. The dwarf had his leather bound sketchpad with him, no doubt deeply focused in drawing the creatures in front of him. As told, his raven still had a small piece of paper tied to his leg, just the right size to include a talk down from his sister.

"Körbl." Thorin said, and the raven looked at his master at the sound of his name. Ori pouted at the loss of one of his subjects, but Dís's raven, Brangwen, remained firmly on her perch in the grass. Thorin held out his arm as the bird settled on it, finding a smile growing on his lips. He had been given his raven at the tender age of 30, just old enough to diligently train his bird each day in both Khuzdul and later, Westron.

"You are well. Dís will be pleased." Körbl crowed, his harsh, rough voice welcoming to Thorin's ears. These ravens were not pets, though the affection he held for his own was certainly at that point.

"I'm sure she will be." Thorin murmured, undoing the bit of string that held the letter and taking the parchment off Körbl's leg. The bird ruffled his feathers as Thorin unrolled it, taking care not to smudge the ink.

_Dearest brother,_

_After nearly a year and a half of no contact, I receive only a small letter from you. Small is of course an_ _overstatement_ _, as your_ _correspondence_ _clocked in at 5 sentences! You are, as always, the fountain of flowing words you were when I past saw you. I am ao unbelievably lucky to have a brother as forthcoming as you. What was I ever thinking, saying that Frerin was my gavorite broyher when we were younger?_

_After taking my only sons on a journey halfway across Middle Earth, for which they are much too young, you have no idea how pleased I was to learn that they are safe, and thankfully_ _inherited_ _their father's tendency to ramble._ _They've_ _been most insightful where you_ _would've_ _been as silent as stone, and_ _I've_   _learned_ _of several things that a barrel of ale_ _would've_ _made you tell me (I am most interested in the fiasco at_ _Laketown_ _. I'm sure my boys left out some details that Dwalin would gladly fill in at your expense.). They also had much to say about the place where you currently reside and one inhabitant in particular._

_Our dearest Ori was kind enough to send a small portrait of the hobbit, and even his name sounds quaint. Bilbo_ _Baggins_ _. He's actually rather good looking, but a beard would be a_ _substantial_ _improvement._ _Víli_ _and_ _Frerin_ _agree with me by the way, and I do believe_ _Frerin_ _was prepared to hurry off down to the Shire to_ _woo_ _him. The lass he was mooning over when you left was forgotten long ago, and it appears our brother is moving onto greener pastures. By that, I of course_ _mean_   _Bilbo_   _Baggins_ _, and then the unwed hobbits in the Shire. That is, of course, there has been a step forward in your_ _situation_ _with him?_

_Yes, brother dear, I am quite aware that_ _you've_ _been pining after a hobbit for the_ _majority_ _of your stay. I_ _won't_ _go into detail, as_ _Fíli_ _and_ _Kíli_ _certainly_ _didn't_   _hesitate_ _to and thus eliminated the need for me to do. Did he really yell at you for being stubborn? I find myself already quite fond of this Bilbo_ _Baggins_ _if_ _he's_ _exactly how my sons have_ _described_ _. Does he know that you will be leaving soon? Please tell me_ _you've_ _talked to him. We both know_ _it's_ _no good for you to keep things inside, so_ _whatever_ _is happening between you two, get it sorted out._ _Fíli_ _and_ _Kíli_ _have offered to help speed things along, if you find yourself in need of assistance. Please be quick with your reply, I am not getting any younger._

_Love,_   _Dís_

* * *

Thorin exhaled slowly, his eyes going over the words again, but no actually reading them. It was odd to be so emotional over a simple letter, but he could just see his sister now, leaning over her desk as she shielded her paper from Frerin and Víli's prying eyes. He could even hear her voice, on the verge of threatening him as she would be when she discovered that her sons had grown, as if it was  _his_ fault. It brought a smile to his face and most embarrassingly, tears to his eyes. His sight caught on the last paragraph once more and Thorin nodded to himself, finally coming to a decision.

"My friends, I...I have news for you." The company all turned their attention to Thorin, the loud chatter ceasing. Thorin walked over to sit in front of the fire and gestured for them to do the same.

"What is about, something from _Amad_?" Kíli asked, plopping down next to his uncle. Thorin shook his head, trying to find the words he needed. He was probably being rash, and he knew he'd get an earful about in the future, but he would not back down. Thorin knew what he was feeling, and even if he didn't know how to approach it, he would find a way. But, he had to take the first step.

"I am not going home to Ered Luin with you all." 

The outbreak of confusion and protest was not as loud as Thorin expected, but it was still there. Fíli and Kíli were the most vocal of all, complaining as they sprawled out on the grass.

"But you can't stay! _Amad_ will throw a fit and come marching down to find you!" Fíli told him. Thorin shook his head.

"She would not. Trust me, your mother will understand."

"Is this because of Bilbo?" Bofur asked, and Thorin nodded, exhaling slowly.

"I wish to court him."

"Then just bring Bilbo with us!" Kíli argued, scrunching his nose in protest. Thorin shook his head.

"I will not make him choose between his home and myself!" Thorin said sharply. "We may be his friends, but he will not simply leave his home to be with us. If I am to win his regard, I will do it properly. It could take time, which is why I am staying."

"That's noble and all Thorin, but what about us?" Balin asked. "We loathe to leave Bilbo behind as much as you do, but is this truly a wise decision? You could always return home, and simply come back."

"I know that." Thorin said harshly. "But I will not leave him. We are all his friends, and the loss of all of us at once would do him no good. As much as I miss home, Bilbo is just as important to me. I will do what I must."

Silence fell over them for a few moments before Kíli huffed a breath. "Well, then  _I_ _'m_  not leaving either. You're hopeless on your own Uncle, you'll need my help."

"He's right. I'll stay too." Fíli interjected, giving his uncle a smile.

"Hopeless!" Thorin repeated in offense, grimacing when his friends began to nod.

"Well, if the brats are staying, I am too." Dwalin sighed, sounding resigned. One by one, the company began to share the same feeling, all nodding and agreeing.

Thorin shook his head. "You can't stay. You have your homes waiting, and family--"

"So do you!" Bofur cut him off. "But you're family too, Thorin, and we're not gonna let you go through this alone. I mean, you brood like there's no tomorrow with our help--"

"I do not brood! Why do you all say that?!"

"Well, mostly because we've seen you do it." Nori muttered, and a laugh went up amongst the dwarves. Thorin scowled at them, but it did nothing to quell the thankfulness he held in his heart for such loyal friends. Thorin didn't know how long it would take for him to win Bilbo's heart, and yet they still vowed to stick by him. It was odd how emotional he had become in recent times, but Thorin supposed that was Bilbo rubbing off on him. 

* * *

It was after supper when Thorin found himself reading Dís's letter for the sixth time that evening, his eyes memorizing her handwriting. It would be hard to tell her that they wouldn't be coming back as soon as they had assumed, but he knew she wouldn't mind too terribly once she knew the full situation.

"What's the back say?" Nori asked, pointing with one hand as the other held onto his pipe. Thorin furrowed his brows as he turned the paper over, finding a small patch of messy script that could only belong to one dwarf.

_Dear Thorin,_

_Have you shagged Master_ _Baggins_ _yet? If not, I will._

_-_ _Frerin_

* * *

"Nothing important." Thorin declared grimly, and he turned the letter back over to Dís's page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is officially half done!! and i've finally gotten down to introducing gandalf which i've been dying to do for quite a few chapters so this is a very rad happening.
> 
> and thus, we also find out that our favorite pesky dwarves won't be leaving the shire just yet how wonderful


	12. Chapter 12

All in all, Gandalf the Grey was as fine a friend as any, or at least in Bilbo's opinion.

He was (somewhat) reliable, a bit cryptic in the way close friends were, and cared for the people around him. He was a bright, valiant soul in an old body and Bilbo adored him as he had his parents.

The only difference between his parents and Gandalf however, was that the wizard was far more troublesome, and his meddling in affairs that did not involve him? It drove Bilbo to near madness at times.

Unfortunately, but nonetheless thankfully, the grim terms that had brought Gandalf to the Shire had left the wizard with hardly any time to stick his nose into Bilbo's business, something the hobbit was exponentially glad for. He loved the wizard dearly, but discussing the subject Gandalf was most interested in was out of the question. And as much as he loathed it, the one thing he most wanted to forget was the subject of most conversations once the Thain came by.

"Tea?" Bilbo asked, his head feeling a bit fuzzy. The nervousness that came with the situation, as well as a few other things, had left him with sleepless nights so far, leading him to be off kilter and drowsy for the first half of the day. Gandalf and Gerontius both nodded, otherwise absorbed in a merry conversation about the days when they were younger. Their chatter had been nearly instantaneous the moment Gerontius walked through the door and given the bad memories that today was sure to bring up, Bilbo was quite content to leave them to the good ones.

After setting the kettle to boil with a yawn, Bilbo shuffled out of the kitchen and off to the pantry in search of food. He really wasn't in any mood to make something, let alone wash dishes from it, so he simply decided to grab a few pieces of fruit to munch on. The plus side from such awful talks? His appetite went right out the door.

Gandalf and Gerontius were laughing when he returned, faces alight with mirth. Bilbo set the apples and grapes he'd picked down on the counter and fetched a bowl before relocating the fruit into it and setting the bowl down on the table. Both hobbit and wizard immediately went for the grapes, eating them in between words like excited fauntlings. It brought a smile to Bilbo's face as he sat down at the table, sighing and putting his head in arms.

"Taxing morning?" Gerontius asked and Gandalf snorted.

"Taxing day yesterday, if you'd be interested in hearing." The wizard snickered and Gerontius raised a bushy eyebrow in question and Bilbo groaned.

"Dwarves? Oh, it was that Thorin fellow wasn't it? Bilbo--"

"Yes, Thorin visited me. No, don't ask anything more." The hobbit grumbled, making his guests laugh.

"My dear boy, I should think you're implying something!" Gerontius said in mock offense. Bilbo gave him a withering look.

"I would be a fool if I didn't know what you were going to continue on with." Bilbo replied dryly, then sighed and waved his hand. "I'm fine, he's fine, everything is fine. He was simply wondering if I had...died."

"If you had died?" Gandalf echoed thoughtfully. "Yes, that would make his sour mood make more sense."

"He was in a sour mood because you were jabbering away at him while he was worried." Bilbo snapped. The hobbit knew that others' interpretations of what was going on between the two of them was quickly becoming a sort of joke, and he was not in the mood for it. Not now, not ever.

"Not sleeping then?" Gerontius asked softly and Bilbo huffed.

"How did you know?"

"You get awfully irritable when you're tired." Gerontius smiled. "I remember when you were 10, and decided that you were too old for naps. Your mother just let you go without them and as a result, you nearly bit the head off of anyone who so much as talked to you. Terrible time it was, never thought I would make it out alive if I roped you into a conversation."

"Shush." Bilbo whined, getting up to fetch the kettle. He made the tea as his grandfather and friend chuckled to themselves, remembering tidbits of Bilbo as a fauntling. Truly, Bilbo found some of them to be funny, but he'd be damned if he was to laugh and show them a smile at this point in time.

It took awhile, but when they finally got down to business Bilbo's mood soured completely. Gandalf was grim as he nodded, bearing the news that Bilbo had hoped was only speculation.

"Darkness and evil builds in Middle Earth," he said sagely, eyes drifting to stare out through the window where sunlight poured in. "It has been building for a very long time, and I regret to say that what's been predicted is a product of it. You will have a harsh winter this year, and it may be even worse than the first."

Bilbo put his head in his hands and let out a long breath while Gerontius grimaced. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Warn everyone as soon as possible." Gandalf said firmly. "If you put out an actual advisory, hobbits will listen. There are many who still remember the Fell Winter, and they sill be the first to rise to action. Every little bit will help."

"What will it take for others to realize then?" Bilbo asked sullenly. "How many hobbits will have to die before they all realize that this is not just Grandfather overreacting, or us being foolish and taking your advice? Gandalf, I..." Bilbo trailed off and breathed deeply, composing himself. "I don't want to see my friends dead."

"Lives will be lost, whether you want it or not." Gerontius said bluntly. Bilbo winced at his words, but knew that he only spoke the truth. At the age of 130, he had lost far too many people to gloss over the facts, and Bilbo knew it. "But we can at least try to reduce the number."

"I can order food and supplies from Bree." Bilbo told them quietly. "Any shipments should be here before things can get too bad."

"Perhaps families should move in with another once the weather turns too cold?" Gandalf said. "It will allow firewood to be used longer, what with fewer fires."

"Purchase coal as well, Bilbo." Gerontius said, nodding at the younger hobbit. "It'll make the air stuffy, but it burns longer than wood. We'll need lots of it."

Bilbo rose from his seat. "I'll gather paper and quill so we can make a list." He went off to his study with a heavy feeling in his heart, shoulders slumped from the weight of the situation. If the Fell Winter was anything to go by, winter was right on their heels. Indeed, it had turned cold by early November, the heavy, thick snow cascading down within a fortnight. The summer that year had even been particularly hot, leaving hobbits all over the Shire completely unprepared for the sharp change in temperature. The poorest hobbit families were often those who were first lost, from exposure and starvation, or some other occurrence. Even those who were wealthy as Bilbo's family were fell victim to luxury, and a few found themselves with far too little supplies to last them. Belladonna was a smart one however, and helped to stretch their food out for far longer than others managed. They all grew thin eventually and lost the round stomachs that marked a healthy hobbit, instead having sunken cheeks and protruding bones. Bilbo was only 21 at the time, still a child by hobbit standards. He went from an excitable young lad to a sluggish, fatigued one who shivered his way through each day. It had only been through the help of Rangers and Gandalf that many survived, their aid coming by early January and bringing the relief they'd been seeking.

Bilbo scrubbed at his eyes as he grabbed his supplies. It had been so long ago, but it never failed to bring back unsteady emotions. The threat of another one looming over them had caused him to have nightmares, from minor ones that were only repeats of the chill and hunger he had experienced when younger to new ones, with horrifying images he had never wanted to encounter. It would jolt him into wakefulness with tears on his cheeks and a cry stuck in his throat, and Bilbo would rub at his tired eyes as he curled up further in his blanket. With the grim answer Gandalf had provided, Bilbo knew it would only get worse and he involuntarily shivered at the thought. He breathed deeply, trying to bring equilibrium back to his body and left the study with his items in hand.

Gerontius and Gandalf seemed to be in the midst of a very quiet discussion when Bilbo came back, and it only made the hobbit's heart fall more. Despite not knowing what was being said, Bilbo had the feeling that it was about something entirely different from their current situation. If it wasn't, his grandfather wouldn't have been whispering the way he was, obviously trying to make sure Bilbo didn't hear or understand. Even Gandalf seemed disturbed, his face creased with worry and a flicker of something else. Bilbo found it hard to breathe and he suddenly rustled the papers, ducking out of view so they would not see him. When he entered only a moment later, their conversation had ceased, and Bilbo said nothing about it.

"Alright then," he said, coming back to sit at the table. "What should I put down first?"

* * *

It wasn't until long after tea time that Gerontius left, Bilbo following behind. He had promised to see Thorin, but had forgot entirely about it through the day. By now, they had already left the market and were back at their camp, up to whatever they did when they weren't pestering him. So Bilbo set off for the camp, hoping that he remembered the way. Getting lost and exploring was fun and all, but Bilbo quite frankly just wanted to see the dwarf he was mooning after then go home and try and get some sleep. The walk itself was a lofty 30 minutes, but Bilbo didn't mind. It was nice to look at the woods he used to play in as a fauntling, camping for a night with his friends just so he could come home with dirty feet and twigs in his hair. The leaves were colored richly in their autumn colors, scattering the ground with red, orange and gold that crunched beneath his feet. The air had a slight chill to it though, biting at his hands until he stuffed them in his pockets and dutifully tried not to think about what loomed over them. It was only by the following of a well treaded path and a lucky spotting that Bilbo found the camp as quickly as he did.

"Bilbo!" The hobbit looked up at the sound of his name and smiled when he saw Ori, the dwarf's arms laden with firewood. Bilbo hurried forward to grab some from him, lighting the load with a brighter smile. "What are you doing out here?"

"I came to see Thorin." Bilbo replied then added, "Well, all of you. I dropped by for a visit."

"A visit!" Ori laughed. "You make it sound like we've got a house or something out here."

"Well, you're all wonderful at your crafts, I wouldn't be surprised if you had managed to build one." Bilbo said, grinning. Ori smiled and shook his head.

"We'd need an awful lot of stone to build a house that can fit us all. Enough to build something as big as Bag End." Ori suddenly smirked before leaning into Bilbo. "Between you and me, I'm rather sure Dwalin would kick everyone out so just he and I can have it. "

Bilbo laughed. "You two make quite the odd pair I must say. You're complete opposites."

Ori nodded, beaming as he did so. "I know. But he's my One, so it could hardly matter to me what he looked like. That personality is a bit of hurdle, but I manage."

Bilbo snorted. "I can only imagine. He seems to be rather..."

"Pesky? Grating? Pig headed?"

"Well, I was going to say strong willed, but you obviously know him better than I do."

"Sadly, yes. Come on, I'll lead you back to camp." Ori said. Bilbo began to follow, shifting the wood in his arms.

"You called him your One earlier. What is that? A pet name?" Bilbo asked curiously. Ori stilled and hesitated for a moment for answering.

"Well, it's a person of course. They're your one true love, you know, you were born to meet them and fall in love."

"Like a soulmate?"

"I wouldn't really call it a soulmate." Ori admitted. "The legend goes that when Mahal is forging your soul, he strikes the hammer too hard and makes two instead of one. So, he puts one half in you and then the other half in your One, and it's your destiny to find them. Soulmate always seems to imply to me that each person has their own and the two seek each other, but it's more a matter of simply being the other half to just one. Less than half of all dwarves marry, so it's quite a big deal when you find your One."

"How interesting." Bilbo said. "How do you know when you've found them?"

"For some, you catch their eye and you just know." Ori told him proudly. Bilbo smiled, reasoning that it must've been that way for him. "For others, it takes a talk or two before they know, and some even dislike their Ones at first. It takes them some time before they figure it out, and they feel quite silly after, I should think."

"Well, I'd feel quite stupid if I couldn't see that sort of thing. Imagine that, someone who you were destined to meet and you didn't even like them!" Bilbo declared and Ori laughed.

"Oh yes, I've seen it before. A friend of mine was that way and he got himself all worked up and upset before he admitted it."

"Did it work out for him?"

"No clue." Ori told him. "As far as I know, he hasn't said anything."

"Poor fellow. I hope it all goes in his favor." Bilbo said, and he missed the curious expression that crossed over Ori's face as they neared the camp. The clang of metal caught Bilbo's attention and he shared a look with the dwarf before hurrying along, wood jostling in his arms. Ori was right behind him as they reached the camp, and Bilbo's arms nearly went slack at the sight in front of him.

Thorin and Dwalin were in the midst of fighting, with the company spread around them in a loose semicircle. Both of the fighting dwarves were shirtless, their skin glistening with sweat in the golden autumn sunlight. Now, Bilbo had seen Thorin shirtless before, but the dwarf had been quite hungover that time and it could hardly compare to the sight in front of him. Thorin had tied his long hair back into a loosely braided ponytail, sections of the wavy strands escaping and falling over his strong back and shoulders. His attention was entirely focused on the task at hand and he paid no attention to Bilbo, something the hobbit was rather glad for. With Thorin paying no attention, he could look just as much as he pleased.

"Why are they doing that?" Bilbo asked Ori, dropping the wood in a pile as the dwarf did. Ori shrugged as he smiled fondly.

"Just for fun. Dwalin loves sparring, and only Thorin and Dori are close in strength to him. Though," Ori leaned in before adding quietly, "Dori is stronger than him, and Dwalin hates losing, so he usually challenges Thorin instead."

Bilbo laughed at the thought of Dori, a mild mannered dwarf who fretted over his brothers and textiles beating Dwalin easily just through sparring. The thought was amusing to Ori as well, who laughed right along with him and attracted the attention of some of the other dwarves.

"Hey, it's Bilbo!" Kíli announced, grinning and scrambling up from his seat in the grass. Dwalin made the mistake of looking over for a second, and Thorin took the chance to charge forward and knock him down into the grass, pointing his blade at his neck until Dwalin held his hands up in surrender. Thorin held out his hand to help Dwalin up and Bilbo tried valiantly not to stare at the muscles in his arms and shoulders.

"Ah yes, hello!" Bilbo greeted, turning his attention away from Thorin with no small amount of effort. "I'm terribly sorry for not coming by to see you all earlier, but I've been quite busy."

"Ah, think nothing of it." Balin assured him. "Thorin told us that you were otherwise occupied, so we could hardly hold it against you. There's nothing wrong, is there?"

Bilbo hesitated. "Oh, nothing really. Just a family thing really."

"Well that's good, since we all thought you had died." Kíli said casually, making Bilbo laugh.

"Yes, Thorin told me as much. Honestly, I'm not as helpless as you seem to think!"

"None of us think you to be helpless. Perhaps we all simply worry a bit." Bilbo looked over when Thorin approached, the dwarf's face blank but his eyes alight with a smile. He had still neglected to put a shirt on, much to Bilbo's delight and chagrin. Now, the hobbit could fully see the tattoos that covered the dwarf's chest, partially hidden by the hair there. It was an angular dwarvish design, spanning across his pectoral muscles and dipping down in a v formation on his upper stomach.  The ink was a rich black color, well worn into the dwarf's skin.

"Yes well, there's nothing to worry about." Bilbo said, clearing his throat. "I apologize for not having the time for a lesson today, I've just been well, rather busy."

"Think nothing of it. As I told you, I'm sure it's quite important."

"Yes but, I just hate to not be able to spend the time you have left here with you all. Instead I'm busy fretting like usual while the days dwindle down." Bilbo sighed.

"Oh, we're not leavin' yet." Bofur piped up, grinning at Bilbo's gobsmacked look. Thorin looked rather sheepish when Bilbo turned the look on him, an eyebrow raising inquisitively.

"But you said--"

"We all changed our minds." Thorin said hastily. "True, we miss our families, but leaving so soon didn't feel quite right. I also highly doubt you'd be able to convey all the snark you give through letter as well."

"There you go, underestimating me!" Bilbo squawked, swatting Thorin's arm. It disguised the giddiness in his heart, as he might as well have been singing out of pure joy at the news. He grinned as Thorin laughed.

"Yes, well. Since we won't be leaving just yet, I'd like to invite you to celebrate with us."

"Celebrate you not leaving?"

"Er, no." Thorin said, smiling wryly. "One of the most important holidays to dwarves is Durin's Day. It is when the last moon of autumn and the sun are in the sky together. We celebrate it each year, usually with our family and friends."

"But you won't be with your family." Bilbo reminded him, and Thorin nodded.

"We will be with a friend however. And well," Thorin avoided looking Bilbo in the eye and rubbed at the back of his neck. "you're as good as family to us."

Bilbo ducked his head as he smiled, chest constricting at the tenderness in his words. Bilbo knew that when Thorin spoke for all of the company, he did not do so lightly. He was a considerate friend despite the cold front he sometimes put up, and it warmed Bilbo's heart to know how they all thought of him. Yet, at the same time, a part of him wished to shun and ignore the words. That part insisted that he was simply putting his own feelings behind the words and making it a much bigger deal than it actually was, and that truly, Thorin said it all lightly. He could've been doing it out of loneliness for his family, and simply decided to fill the void with someone he had become friends with. Bilbo shook his head and looked up at Thorin with a beaming smile.

"I feel the same."

* * *

The smell of fish cooking met Bilbo when he made it back home less than an hour later, having assured the dwarves that he would make more time to see them before their holiday. The hobbit hurried into the kitchen to see Gandalf with his hair tied back, and for perhaps the first time in his eternal life, doing something useful for his dear hobbit friends.

"I didn't think you knew how to cook." Bilbo said wryly, crossing his arms as he paused in the doorway. Gandalf huffed as he rose from his bent position, giving Bilbo a sideways look.

"I need food as well, Bilbo Baggins. Do you honestly think I would've never learned something as basic as this?"

"Well..." Bilbo began, then trailed off with a grin. Gandalf mumbled something under his breath as he gestured at the hobbit behind him.

"Fetch some plates, now there's a good lad. I don't fancy our dinner being burnt."

Bilbo did as he was instructed and set the table, ducking beneath Gandalf's arm with forks and knives in his hand as the wizard carried a hot pan.

"Drinks?"

"Wine, please."

"You know," Bilbo said. "Drinking a lot of that isn't good for you."

"Consuming seven meals a day isn't either, and yet I still see you doing that." Gandalf snipped back, lips twitching with a smile. Bilbo laughed as he took the still unemptied bottle from Gandalf's night of arrival and grabbed two glasses.

"Yes, but we were made to do that. I hardly doubt wizards were put on Middle Earth to drink wine and smoke all the Old Toby the Shire has to offer."

"All of it? Nonsense!" Gandalf exclaimed. "I make sure to leave your pouch full."

"Oh, that was you? Why then, thank you."

The two set into their meal quietly, the only sounds coming from the clank and squeak of a fork and knife against a plate. It was a companionable silence, made from two others who had enough on their mind to simply sit and just eat. Bilbo wondered what Gandalf and his grandfather had been talking about earlier, and why they felt the need to be so secretive about it. Bilbo played just as much of a part in the planning for the upcoming months, and keeping secrets would do none of them any good. They all needed honesty in a time like this, no matter how hard bearing the truth may be.

"Went to see your dwarves then, hm?" Gandalf finally asked, setting down his fork to take a sip of his wine. Bilbo nodded.

"Yes. Though, they're hardly my dwarves. I don't understand why everyone keeps saying that."

"Dwarves are a very secretive race, Bilbo." Gandalf told him. "That you have been accepted so, and even allowed to learn Khuzdul is unheard of. Dwarves are a merry people with their own race, but often hide that from outsiders."

"Yes well, you haven't met Fíli and Kíli." Bilbo smiled. "I don't think they know the meaning of somberness."

"Those two are the leader's nephews, are they not? Master Thorin Oakenshield."

"Indeed they are. You'd never guess that with Fíli, since he has his father's coloring apparently. Kíli inherited his mother's looks, and thus Thorin's as well."

"Where do they hail from? Ered Luin?" Gandalf looked down into his glass, swirling the wine around. Bilbo nodded.

"They traveled to Erebor and back. Thorin ah, he used to live there."

"Really?" Gandalf said, sounding intrigued. "Odd, most dwarves do not leave their homeland unless they are forced out or for work."

"He said it wasn't safe." Bilbo said simply, because really, that was all he knew for certain. He wouldn't go further as to put his own theories behind it and end up giving Gandalf the wrong idea. The wizard nodded sagely, obviously in thought about something.

"Indeed, Erebor is not the kingdom it once was. The king is old and wretched, though his heir is not. But, he has grown up in the king's shadow, and many think him to be the same."

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Really? How do you know?"

"I have business all over Middle Earth, my boy. I help where I am needed and where I am unwanted."

"Please don't tell me you're meddling in the affairs of a king." Bilbo groaned. "You can be beheaded for that sort of thing!"

"King Frór is far too old to even leave his bed, let alone behead a wizard. And I should hardly think I am the one to meddle in a king's affairs. I shall leave that to someone more qualified." Gandalf declared. Bilbo shook his head.

"You're hopeless."

"Perhaps." Gandalf agreed. "But aren't you also?"

"Pardon?" Bilbo asked, raising a brow. What was that confounded wizard getting at now?

"I can see it as clear as day, Bilbo." Gandalf told him, smiling. "Belladonna would've been over the moon and Bungo would've been beside himself. To think, a dwarf!"

"My father would've boxed my ears for being so foolish." Bilbo murmured dishearteningly.

"Nonsense!" Gandalf said. "Bungo was simply protective of those he held dear. I remember him as a fauntling chasing dear Belladonna around and outright threatening me when I spoke to her! Your father would've been suspicious, but I have no doubt that you and Thorin would've made it through his scrutiny. He would've come to adore Thorin in time, though, his nephews you said so much about would've sent him spiraling.

Bilbo laughed. "I have no idea how Thorin does it. The rest of the company helps of course, but they're still quite the handful."

"Yes, he appears to be quite resilient." Gandalf mused.  "Sad though, too. He strikes me as the type to have lost too much too soon. Am I mistaken?"

"Ah, no." Bilbo said quietly. "He lost his father and grandfather in a mining accident in Erebor, then his mother was killed by an orc on their way to Ered Luin."

"What was her name?" Gandalf inquired, earning an odd look from Bilbo. He was curious as to why the wizard was so interested in Thorin. Perhaps it was just him looking out for him, or maybe it was something more.

"Freia." Bilbo answered, then sighed quietly. "It's so awful, it really is. Thorin...he's a wonderful person. He doesn't deserve any of what happened to him."

"Certainly not." Gandalf agreed, standing sharply. He whisked out of the kitchen in a flurry of movement that had Bilbo stunned for a second before he got up and followed. Gandalf was putting on his boots when Bilbo came in, confusion etched in his brow.

"Where are you going? What's wrong?"

"I have urgent business to attend to." Gandalf said dismissively, taking the tie from his hair as he grabbed his hat. Bilbo shook his head.

"Urgent business?! That's why you came here!"

"I came here to advise you and Gerontius. I have done my job, Bilbo."

The hobbit felt anger building, making his face grow hot and hit head a bit light. "You came here to help! All you've done is tell us what we already know, and throw our solutions back! What else can be so important?!"

"I cannot tell you now." Gandalf said quietly, grabbing his staff from where it rested against the wall. "But it is very important."

"More important than the whole Shire?" Bilbo demanded. "We will die without your help, Gandalf! How can you simply leave? Do any of us matter? Do I matter? Or, is this just some kind of thing you promised my mother, to watch out for me?!"

"Bilbo--"

"I should've known it! That's why you were so interested in the dwarves. You weren't asking because you cared, it was because you had an obligation to! Is that what I am, an obligation?!"

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf shouted, his voice deepening as Bag End seemed to darken and expand to house his growing form. Bilbo had only seen him angry to this point one other time in his entire life, and he shrunk back at the wizard's tone. "How dare you doubt me, after everything I have done! You are foolish in your anger!"

Bilbo breathed shakily as the wizard's temper faded, his eyes wet. He parted his lips and reached out for Gandalf's robes, gripping the front. "Please Gandalf. I'm terrified. I can't do this without you."

The wizard made a soft sound as he kneeled and pulled Bilbo into his arms, hugging the hobbit the way he had when Bilbo was far younger and would cry over something as minor as a scuffed knee. Bilbo sniffed and squeezed the wizard as tightly as he could.

"I will not abandon you, Bilbo. I will help the Shire as much as I can, but for now these matters call for my attention." Gandalf pulled away so he could look the hobbit in the eyes. "They are of the utmost importance, I assure you. Once I have sorted things out, you will be just as glad as I."

"I'm sorry. Gandalf, I just...I just cannot bear to lose anyone else."

"I know, Bilbo. But you are strong." Gandalf assured him. "This winter will be hard, but you will be alright when spring comes. Trust me like you once did."

"Yes, of course. I trust you." Bilbo said quietly, giving the wizard a shaky smile as he stood. Bilbo led Gandalf to the door and showed him out, exhaling slowly to rid himself of the residual surge of emotions. Gandalf went out the door only a few steps before stopping and turning back to Bilbo.

"There is one last thing I need you to tell me. I need you to be completely honest."

"What is it?" Bilbo asked, eyes meeting Gandalf's before trailing down to the stone path beneath his feet. The wizard hesitated a moment, in a most uncharacteristic way, before continuing.

"Do you love Thorin Oakenshield?"

Bilbo's voice caught in his throat, silencing the negative reply that surely would've escaped. The hobbit was dumbstruck, left staring at the ground. Bilbo didn't know the answer for sure. He knew that he enjoyed Thorin's company, and that his laugh was the most beautiful sound in Middle Earth. He knew that when their eyes met, Bilbo found himself struck, even if only for a moment, by the depth in them. He knew that for every smile Thorin gave him and no one else, his head went rampant with fantasies and his chest ached. He knew that Thorin's flaws were not flaws, but rather just quirks of himself that Bilbo simply adored. Most importantly, he knew that he didn't want to see a future without Thorin. Whether they were friends, or something more, Bilbo did not want to live without him. He made Bilbo laugh and fret, rise to anger and fall back down into a state of euphoria. He had become just as much his family as his grandfather or cousins were, and Bilbo trusted him with his life.

Bilbo thought back to Thorin's smile earlier when he had said that he was family, and to the way his eyes showed the emotions he would not put into words. He had clasped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, smile bright as he told Bilbo how glad the news made him.

Bilbo nodded.

"Yes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooo what's gandalf gonna do where's that wizard gotta be so urgently
> 
> also, sorry for the late update!! i started school last wednesday and it's been hard to fit in any time to write lately
> 
> i'll try to keep the updates weekly though, as we're finally getting into the good part B)


	13. Chapter 13

Deciding not to leave the Shire yet was quite possibly, the smartest decision Thorin had made in awhile.

It was so for more than one reason obviously, but most importantly was the fact that he was able to spend more time with Bilbo, and under circumstances that did not involve either exchanging only a few words at the smithy or having to pretend that he was diligently invested in teaching Bilbo during their Khuzdul lessons, when in fact, some days he just wanted to sit there and watch Bilbo talk, seeing how he became riled up by a conversation he was fond of and used impromptu hand gestures on an increasingly regular basis. He was impossibly endearing, and Thorin loathed the days when he could not see him.

 He missed Dís and Frerin to the point where he nearly reconsidered his choice to have gone on this trip, let alone remain in the Shire for longer. But his sister's response upon receiving news of their expected arrival; or lack thereof; was enough to silence most of his doubt. Dís supported him fully, urging him to finally do something for himself once more. It had been since before they all left Erebor that Thorin had given any thoughts to his own needs, and he knew it as well as she did. Dís still voiced some slight skepticism over Bilbo, but her justification of never having met the hobbit was understandable. Dís wasn't a very trusting person the same way Thorin was, though she tended to rise to her final judgement quicker. He preferred to sit back and watch whoever instead, as it was far easier than trying to squeeze every bit of information out of them.

She followed up the rest of the letter with regular talk, from life in Ered Luin to unimportant questions about himself. It was obvious that she missed Thorin as much of he missed her, but was less likely to outright admit it. She preferred to show her feelings through actions, another trait her and Thorin shared, though Dís was exponentially better at it.

There was no little bit from Frerin on the back this time, the dwarf instead opting to actually send his own letter. It was of course, addressed to everyone with little bits that he only separated with a line, but Thorin reasoned that it was better than nothing. He congratulated his brother on his choice, and proceeded to supply a few tips and possible courses of action to take. Frerin prided himself in wooing what seemed to be the general population of Ered Luin, always seeming to be waxing poetry about someone new every few months. Thorin hardly approved of the behavior, but as long as he only pursued those who wished it, he supposed he could let it slide. Frerin was much more open with his feelings than his siblings, prepared to say what he thought he felt rather than keeping it inside until being absolutely sure. It had earned him many friends and a few enemies, but he managed to keep himself out of trouble. He was a bit promiscuous, but never tried to do anything that had the chance of making someone uncomfortable or upset. Frerin could read people easily and used it to his advantage, finding their limits and abiding by it. Thorin could only imagine what sort of tales he would have to face when he made it home.

Speaking of home, the only occupant of Bag End was quite stressed when Thorin dropped by after he had finished work for the day. Thorin knocked on the door and waited, looking at his hands, calloused from long years of work. There was no answer at first, so Thorin knocked again, and soon after heard a voice call for him to come in. Thorin entered and looked around for Bilbo, but did not see the hobbit anywhere. The wizard wasn't afoot either it seemed, and Thorin didn't suppress the sigh of relief at it.

"Who is it?" Bilbo's voice reached him again, and Thorin turned his head in the direction of it.

"Thorin. Good afternoon!" He called back, taking off his boots habitually and setting them beneath the coat hooks. "Where are you?"

"In my study!" Bilbo answered. Thorin didn't hear the sound of chair legs moving across the floor, so he instead went off to find the hobbit. The twisting tunnels of Bag End made a fool of him constantly, leading him astray and possibly as far away from his target destination as possible. However, the increasing amount of time he had spent in the smial was on his side today, and Thorin located the study with utmost ease. Bilbo was folded over his desk, scribbling away at a piece of paper. He would pause every few seconds to purse his lips in thought, then quickly write down whatever he had concluded. The hobbit looked up when Thorin stopped in the doorway, smiling. Immediately, Thorin noticed the bags under his eyes and the tiredness to his expression, but said nothing.

"Hello. What brings you here?"

"I came by to see if you had any free time for a lesson." Thorin replied. That was a bit of a lie, as he simply wished to see Bilbo, but the hobbit didn't need to know that. "Are you busy?"

"Regretfully so." He answered, frowning. Bilbo rubbed at the crease between his brows and gestured to his paper. "I'm calculating the cost of some supplies I have to purchase. Needless to say, maths aren't my greatest subject."

Thorin walked into the room more and peered at the paper. "I could help. Math is easy."

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to bother you." Bilbo said. "It's simple stuff really, I should be able to do it myself. 

"Nonsense, I'll help." Thorin insisted. He walked over to stand behind Bilbo and looked over the hobbit's shoulder, eyes scanning the page. It was just supplies like Bilbo had said, but it was the sheer number that struck Thorin's curiosity. He took the quill from the hobbit's hands and fixed a few previous numbers Bilbo had written before moving on.

"There's nearly enough here to supply half the Shire, I should think." Thorin murmured, and he felt Bilbo stiffen beneath him. The list had pounds upon pounds of food, cloth and other necessities listed, and the current total was enough that it made Thorin wonder simply how wealthy Bilbo was to not be wincing as Thorin made another addition to the cost. "Why do you need so much?"

"Precautions." Bilbo said, staring down at the paper. "There are...worries that we might have overindulged and not left enough supplies should the winter be a bit foul this year."

"Worries do not cause someone to spend this much." Thorin muttered. Was this what had Bilbo seeming so worried the past few days? "Is something wrong?"

"No, no everything is fine!" Bilbo insisted, turning in his seat to look at Thorin. It put them in an even closer proximity, their noses nearly brushing. Thorin pulled back to give him a level look, ignoring the heavy beat of his own heart. "It's nothing to worry about!"

"Bilbo, you have enough food on there to last a group of dwarves months if they were rationing it. Coal, too. Why do you need that much coal?"

"I just do!" Bilbo exclaimed. "Why does it all matter?!"

"You look as though you've not slept in a week." Thorin said briskly, a deep frown forming. "Tell me what is wrong."

"You won't understand." Bilbo said quietly, and turned back to his paper. Thorin ground his teeth as he kneeled at Bilbo's chair and pulled the hobbit by his shoulders to face him, expression firm.

"You are going to drive yourself mad like this. I wish to help if I can, but I am powerless if I know nothing. Tell me what is wrong, Bilbo. 

The hobbit looked as though he would ignore Thorin's request, but his frame crumpled only a moment after. Bilbo sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "You remember Gandalf, correct?"

"He was here only days ago, my memory is not that poor." Thorin replied, drawing a small smile out of Bilbo.

"Yes well, my grandfather sent for him because we needed an adviser, of sorts. That day when Fíli, Kíli and you were here and he dropped by, it was to tell me of some news, and then of his arrival."

"What was the news?" Thorin asked softly, hands still on Bilbo's shoulders. They were eye level like this, and Thorin found it much easier than having to look down at him. Bilbo swallowed heavily before continuing.

"He...he thought that we might be having another winter like the Fell Winter. Of course, he wasn't sure and I didn't want to believe it, but it just worried me so much. Then, Gandalf dropped by and Grandfather was busy so we couldn't know for a few days and then when he finally sit down to talk, he only confirms what we knew! Blasted old wizard then proceeds to sweep of into the great unknown with only telling me that it's important. That leaves me to worry, and figure all this out, and I've barely slept in days and--"

"It's alright." Thorin soothed, squeezing the hobbit's shoulders. Bilbo sighed and nodded. "If I understand correctly, you're telling me that you are expecting to have a winter like the one you told me about?"

"Yes." Bilbo said miserably, shaking his head. Thorin nodded slowly, soaking up the information Bilbo had given him. Anger flared up at the thought of that Gandalf fellow leaving so suddenly when his work was here in the Shire. These were his friends in danger, and he thought something else was more important?

"Dwarves are not usually easily affected by the cold, for two reasons. One, we are hardy. Two," Thorin said, standing from his kneeling position. "We wear many layers. It would do you some good to purchase furs, as they can be used as a lining for any garment, and would make it much warmer."

Bilbo nodded and wrote it down on his list. "How much would it cost? My grandfather and I are both paying for it, and he'd be quite upset if I took a greater share."

Thorin told him about the different types of furs and the predicted costs for them and Bilbo eventually decided on what he would look for, and a few alternatives should he not be able to buy it. Thorin had been the primary source of income for his family upon their arrival in Ered Luin, and he knew how to provide for people without getting swindled out of his penny. Bilbo was not the same as him, and Thorin could easily see him getting coerced into buying what he needed for far too much. That was not to say that Thorin thought he was helpless at the marketplace, as hobbits were without a doubt cunning enough to know how to barder. But in the large markets of Bree, or somewhere else where it was heavily populated by Men? His hobbity stature made him an easy target.

"When are you going for these supplies?" Thorin asked as Bilbo fell back in his chair with a sigh. Thorin had moved to lean against the desk by then, arms crossed across his chest. 

"Hm? Oh no, I'm not going. We can easily get this imported from Bree with the help of the Rangers and some other volunteers. Men have some sort of...fondness for us."

"You're about the size of one of their children, I have no doubt that they see you like one too." Thorin told him, drawing a sharp laugh from Bilbo.

"Probably! It's a good thing we're a bright bunch, otherwise someone would've been carted off as a lost child by now."

"I'm surprised many haven't." Thorin said, a smile pulling at his mouth. Bilbo grinned before stretching, holding his arms above his head and groaning as his joints cracked. Bilbo had closed his eyes as he did so, leading Thorin to take a small risk and watch him. Bilbo leaned his head back, exposing his pale, unmarred throat and immediately Thorin was struck by the urge to kiss it and pour the attention that Bilbo deserved upon him.The top two buttons of Bilbo's shirt were undone and taunted Thorin, making the dwarf's fingers itch to both undo the rest and button them, shielding his One from anyone's prying eyes.  Thorin crossed his arms harder and finally averted his eyes, trying to ignore the rather distracting moan that escaped the hobbit as his brought down his arms.

"Say, Thorin?"

"Yes?" The dwarf muttered, eyes now scanning the paper instead of the hobbit in front of him.

Bilbo hesitated for a moment. "Would you teach me how to fight? With a sword, or perhaps something else?"

"Why do you need to know how to fight?" Thorin asked sharply, alarmed by the thought of Bilbo having to do such a thing. Sparring was all in fun, but actual fighting? That was one thing Thorin did not want to see Bilbo ever engage in. 

"I don't want to be helpless this winter. I have no doubt that the Brandywine River will freeze again, and there will be wolves or some other thing. My father was bit because we didn't know how to defend ourselves, and I won't have it be that way again. So, will you?"

"Fighting well is not easy, Bilbo." Thorin warned. "One sloppy move and you'll be at your enemy's mercy."

"I'd rather be at their mercy from defending another than having done nothing at all." Bilbo said, his voice soft but firm. Thorin nodded and sighed.

"Very well. I don't carry swords around, so you can come back to camp with me or we can wait until Durin's Day to begin practice."

"Durin's Day!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I'd nearly forgotten all about it. When is it again? 

"A few days." Thorin told him, a fond smile growing on his face. "Oín and Balin predict Hevensday, and I have no reason not to agree." 

"Marvellous." Bilbo said, clapping his hands together. "I'd quite like to start today however, but can't we use something else instead of swords?"

"Like what?"

"Sticks?"

"Sticks."

"Not just twigs!" Bilbo said, realizing how it sounded. "I meant branches, you know, big ones. I can't imagine having to use one of yours, it'll be much too big."  

Thorin nodded again. "Yes, I suppose branches will work. Do you have some just...laying around?"

"Well, they're actually from my pile of firewood." Bilbo admitted, standing up and pushing his chair back. "They won't be terribly small, though you might find the biggest one to be a bit short."

"I'll be fine, my hands have seen worse then the rap of a stick."

"Well, when you have bleeding knuckles, I'll be the one who's laughing." Bilbo led Thorin outside, going out the back door into the yard where he had been only days earlier. There was firewood and kindling packed in a space near the edge of the yard, pushed up against the outer grass wall of Bag End. Bilbo crouched and began to rifle through it, searching for the two perfect branches. Thorin breathed deeply, enjoying the clear, cool air. The temperature had dropped significantly in the past few weeks now that Thorin put some pieces together, and he finally understood why Bilbo had seemed so frazzled the day he came to visit. For someone who was so used to the sun and warm weather that had been a constant presence in Thorin's time here in the Shire, the dwarf could understand why it all got to him.

"Here we are." Bilbo said, handing Thorin a branch. It was a fairly heavy one, uncut as it would be when the time to use it as firewood came forth. Thorin looked at Bilbo's own stick, which was a bit shorter and appeared to be lighter than his. It wasn't an absurd size however, so Thorin let it go without another word.

"Now, let's see your battle stance."

The position Bilbo snapped into was humorous to Thorin, who had been trained all his life in the forms of combat. He shook his head and barely stifled a chuckle, making Bilbo roll his eyes.

"Alright, just say it's terrible and fix it. There's no need to laugh."

"I'm not laughing." Thorin said, smiling as he moved around and corrected Bilbo's stance. "Don't be so stiff. If you're light on your feet, you'll he able to move quicker. Bend your knees too, don't keep them locked like that. Arms up, don't rely on your sword to protect your face like that."

Bilbo did as Thorin asked with a diligent attitude, shifting his feet and arms as the dwarf asked. When Thorin finally took up his own stance and ordered the hobbit to come at him, the result was excessive perhaps.

"Oof!" Bilbo's breath was knocked from him as Thorin tossed him to the ground with little effort. Thorin had forgot about the weight differences between he and the hobbit, and what the dwarf thought was a light blow was instead a much too strong one for Bilbo.

"I'm sorry." Thorin said, helping Bilbo back up. The hobbit looked a bit ruffled, hair sticking up and a few blades of grass stuck in the curls. Thorin ignored the urge to fluff it out and instead tightened his grip on the branch.

"Please remember that I'm rather small compared to you."

"No hidden strength like Dori?"

"Could you imagine?" Bilbo said, sounding aghast. "I would literally be able to throw Fíli and Kíli out of my smial."

Thorin laughed as he motioned for Bilbo to get back into position and nodded. "Try again."

This time, Thorin did not throw Bilbo to the ground, and the hobbit managed to stand his ground well. What Bilbo lacked in strength, he made up for in his light footedness, easily dodging Thorin's slashes by ducking under the stick and moving past him. Thorin knew he was smiling as they did it, and when Bilbo did as well, it only made his expression grow. His hair was sticking to his temple and neck by then, the skin sticky with sweat. Bilbo wasn't much better, with his cheeks flushed a pretty pink as perspiration beaded on his neck and face. His eyebrows were scrunched in such a way that Thorin would even call adorable and the dwarf realized how truly, utterly far gone he was when Bilbo's stick was knocked from his hands and he proceeded to hold them up in defeat.

"How what that?" Bilbo asked, breathless. Thorin breathed deeply as he nodded.

"Very good. You'll do well once I get a sword in your hands."

"Great!" Bilbo collapsed into the grass with a large sigh, eyes closing as he soaked up what little now remained of the autumn sunshine. The hobbit patted the spot next to him. "Sit. Breathe. Die of exhaustion with me."

"Dying already? Perhaps we should not let you near a sword." Thorin said wryly as he laid back on the grass, a smattering of leaves crunching under his back.  Bilbo laughed, an arm going up to cover his eyes.

"Please, the most exercise I get is walking to visit you lot. This is a lethal dose of activity."

"You make exercise sound like your only weakness."

"It is. That and a bad meal." Bilbo put his arm down and smiled as he looked at Thorin, face still flushed. Thorin swallowed heavily as he smiled back, left struck by just how beautiful his One was. Bilbo was no dwarf and he never would be, but he was by far the most breathtakingly perfect person in existence. How he had never been scooped up by another yet was a mystery to Thorin. How could they possibly miss someone as flawless as Bilbo?

They were close now, so much so that Thorin could brush his nose against Bilbo's if he dared to move. Thorin hesitated to even blink, not wanting to miss a single moment of lying with Bilbo, both of them a right mess, but not seeming to care. If he shifted only a bit, he could meet Bilbo's lips with his own, and finally fulfill one of his only wishes in the world. Thorin nearly did it, he really did.

But it was his own judgement that got the better of him again, and he sat up with a groan. "I should be going back to camp. No doubt Bombur is protecting my share of supper with tooth and nail." 

Bilbo laughed softly and nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Off with you then."

They both rose from the grass and went inside, the cool air of Bag End wonderful on Thorin's heated skin. He could feel his tunic sticking to his back and grimaced slightly, realizing how he must smell. Bilbo seemed not to notice, simply walking beside Thorin towards the foyer, hands swinging freely at his sides. Thorin clenched his fists to avoid reaching out and taking one, eyes trained forward. 

Bilbo was silent as Thorin put on his boots, messing with his hair in an attempt to sort it back into some semblance of order. Thorin sighed and gave him a small smile as he straightened up. Bilbo smiled back and showed him to the door, hand resting on the round frame.

"So, Hevensday?" Bilbo confirmed, tilting his head slightly.

"Indeed. Until then." Thorin replied. He wished to he able to say or do something that would make this temporary goodbye more fulfilling, something that would leave him feeling complete. Thorin instead gave Bilbo one last smile before turning and heading off, eyes focused on the ground and his heart pounding in his chest. 

* * *

 Some part of Thorin made Durin's Day out to be quite possibly the biggest even he could ever share with Bilbo, and as such, it also made that same part of him inexplicably nervous. The feeling spread and progressed as the days dwindled down and the date was upon him, leaving Thorin is feel like he was grasping for straws on just how to treat the whole celebration. Durin's Day festivities usually went for three days, bringing in the New Year with a bang. Of course, native dwarves of Ered Luin didn't celebrate it in the same way those of Erebor did, for they were mostly made up of Firebeards and Broadbeams, not Stiffbeards like Thorin and his family. Bofur, Bombur and Bifur were never ones to pass up a good celebration however, and had opted to embrace their take on the holiday fully since befriending the pack of uprooted dwarves. Thorin hoped Bilbo would do the same, even if didn't hold any meaning to him. Even if Bilbo didn't really embrace their culture, he hoped that his hobbit would not simply pass up a chance to let his stress go and simply have a good time. 

Since the holiday stood, none of the company left camp that day except to go to marketplace and buy an amount of food that had many hobbits gaping. Fíli and Kíli took the most amusement from it, doing an impression of the gobsmacked hobbits before dissolving into laughter and nearly dropping the food they had bought.

Bombur cooked over the fire the entire day, having made up several small pits in addition to the main one they had been using since camp was set up. It was nothing close to the large ovens in the communal kitchen in Ered Luin, nor the smaller one that was the apartments he shared with Frerin, but it was still enough. Of all the things to pack on a long journey, Bombur had chosen his pots and pans, not bearing to be away from them for so long, or having to buy new ones should the need arise. Soon, he had delicious flatbreads bakin, hearty meat soups boiling, and salty fish sizzling, the aroma filling up the little clearing with a decadent smell. It brought a lightness into Thorin's chest, reminding him of the many celebrations where everyone was together, cramming together in Dís's and Víli's apartment and having a merry time. The rest of his family were only days away, and Thorin quirked a smile to imagine them celebrating the same as he was.

Thorin and Dís had kept up a steady correspondence since he first replied back to her, the letters usually coming every two or three days. He couldn't remember the last time he had written so much, hands on the verge of cramping every time he concluded a letter. However, talking to Dís was worth all of the hand cramps in the world, though he had the feeling he'd be retracting that statement when he actually went back home. If all went accordingly and he was able to court Bilbo, he was certain he'd be trying to keep him out of her clutches rather than confessing how much he missed her. 

* * *

 It was starting to just darken when Ori arrived back at camp, having gone off to fetch Bilbo. He looked as impeccable as always, Thorin letting out the quietest of sighs when he laid eyes on him. Bilbo had dressed in his normal brown trousers and white shirt, but wore a deep blue waistcoat with such perfect, swirling embroidering that Thorin thought it must be new. He had on a dusky red coat over it, and was immediately swarmed upon by Fíli and Kíli. 

"Oh, he brought pies! Bless you, Bilbo!" Kíli crowed, taking the baskets from Bilbo's grip.

"Don't you eat them yet! Out of the basket now, you'll spoil your dinner!" Bilbo scolded, exasperation already coloring his tone despite his smile. His eyes met Thorin's and he grinned, giving him a little wave. "I wasn't sure if I should make something, so I went with what I know you all like."

"Apple pie?" Thorin asked, watching as Bifur wrangled the baskets from his nephews before setting them off to the side and signing a reprimand. 

"Obviously." Bilbo said, having watched the proceedings with amusement. "Were you all here today? I didn't see anyone at the market."

"Not all day. Fíli, Kíli, Bombur and Dori all took a trip to buy supplies, but the rest of us have been milling around otherwise, helping to cook or chop firewood or anything else that's needed."

"Never one to give up work, are you?" Bilbo teased, grinning. Thorin snorted.

"There's a difference between work like that and a craft, Bilbo."

"That sounded a bit condescending, but I'll let it go since Bombur is dishing out something." Bilbo snipped, giving Thorin a wry look. The dwarf rolled his eyes. 

"It's called _ratikbrog_. It's a traditional recipe." Thorin told him, watching with evident pride as Bilbo quickly paused to think before speaking.

"Hole bread, right?"

"Indeed." Thorin replied, smiling. "It sounds hollow when tapped upon."

"You've learned quite a bit, haven't you?" Bombur commented, a jovial smile on his face. "Thorin wouldn't tell us a thing about how well you were doing."

"Oh no, it's not much." Bilbo replied modestly, looking down at his bread with a smile. "I can hold a basic conversation--"

"No, he can have a full conversation. Only a short while ago, he greeted me in Khuzdul when we had a lesson and it took me nearly 10 minutes to notice." Thorin interjected, appearing innocent when Bilbo looked at him.

"Don't lie!" Bilbo protested, swatting at Thorin's arm. "My accent is awful, don't listen to him." He added, cheeks tinged pink from the exaggerated praise.

"Nuh, dun list'n to h'm." Kíli chirped, mouth filled with bread.

"As Kíli so eloquently put it, don't listen to Bilbo." Fíli translated, grinning. "We both had a conversation with him and he did amazing. He even knows how to write it."

"Writing too? Thorin, you've outdone yourself." Dori said, giving him an expectant look. Thorin grimaced under the scrutiny of his friends, knowing exactly what news they were waiting to hear.

"Yes well, you can never fully learn a language if you cannot write it." He said briskly, sending a look down at Bilbo who gave him a bright smile in return. Apparently, Thorin's chilly expression must have melted off into something far warmer, for Fíli cooed, and his brother dissolved into a fit of giggles at his uncle's fierce glare. 

* * *

 They sat on the grass around one of the smaller fires, the flame casting highlights on Bilbo's skin and making his hair shine

Yet again, the sheer amount of food Bilbo could eat astounded Thorin, watching as the hobbit tucked into another serving of the meaty stew Bombur had made, oblivious to the disbelief that clouded the dwarf's face. 

Or, mostly oblivious. "What?" He asked, swallowing his mouthfull. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Ah, yes." Thorin lied. "Here." His hand went out and he wiped at the corner of Bilbo's mouth with his thumb, swiping away an invisible spot. Bilbo's skin was soft and hairless, something that was usually deemed unattractive in dwarf culture. Thorin seemed to be quite the opposite, loving the feel of his smooth skin far more than he would a dwarf with the world's finest beard.

"Oh, thank you." Bilbo said when Thorin removed his hand, fingers going up to touch the spot. "I must look a mess, eating like this."

"You haven't dropped any food down the front of your shirt, so you're doing much better than everyone else." Thorin replied, smiling when Bilbo laughed.

"So far, we've only ate food and listened to Gloín wax poetry about his wife and son. What else do you do usually?" Bilbo asked, setting his bowl on the ground.

"Bofur went off to retrieve the barrels of ale we have secured, so the drinking comes next." Thorin said, ticking off a mental schedule that most Durin's Day celebrations followed. "Then, someone usually starts singing and the rest join in. Following that is some sparring or some dancing, though usually only one of those happens." Thorin shrugged. "Once the ale is given out they all become drunken fools and that's the main source of entertainment."

"Just them?" Bilbo teased. "I remember a dwarf that could barely get out of bed after the Harvest Festival because he drank so much."

"I was keeping up with you." Thorin defended. "The fact that you were alive and well after such a display is simply unheard of. Must be the work of that wizard."

"Could you imagine?" Bilbo giggled. "'Gandalf, please give me the power to outdrink dwarves! I don't know when I'll use it, but it'll sure come in handy at some time!'"

"Miserable little hobbit." Thorin muttered, a smile tugging at his lips. Bilbo snorted with laughter.

"Confounded old dwarf! How do you like to be called names?"

"It doesn't bother me." He declared. Dwalin gave a bark of laughter as he came over to hand a mug of ale to the both of them.

"Don't listen to him, laddie. He's one of the most sensitive dwarves I've ever met."

"Really?" Bilbo asked, skeptical in his question but obviously hoping for a good story he could use against Thorin. The dwarf narrowed his eyes at Dwalin, challenging him to continue on with what he was going to say.

"Aye. Few months back, we were in Laketown--"

"Don't you _dare._ "

* * *

 True to his word, singing did start soon after the ale was passed around. Bofur rose to his feet, just barely managing not to slosh his drink on himself as he cleared his throat. "A wonderful Durin's Day to all! I've known most of you as long as I can remember and I look forward to another year with you sods!"

A general groan went up at the dwarf's sentimental words, and he grinned when pieces of food were thrown at him. "Come now, we've barely showed Bilbo a real old fashioned celebration. What will he think?"

"I try not to think much about the ways of dwarves." Thorin heard Bilbo mumble into his cup, and he twisted his mouth to avoid a snort of laughter.

"Sing then! Come on, you all know the words!

"The world was young, the mountains green, no stain yet on the moon was seen,

no words were laid on stream or stone,

when Durin woke and walked alone!" 

The dwarves grinned and joined in, loud deep voices carrying their mirth and merriment up through the trees.

"He named the nameless hills and dells;

he drank from yet untasted wells;

he stooped and looked in Mirrormere,

and saw a crown of stars appear,

as gems upon a silver thread,

above the shadow of his head!" 

Thorin looked over at Bilbo, a wide grin on his face as he bobbed his head along to the words, not knowing a single part of the song. Thorin cleared his throat quietly before joining in, leaning in closer to Bilbo and beginning to sing.

"The world was fair, the mountains tall,

in Elder Day before the fall,

of mighty kings in Nargothrond,

and Gondolin, who now beyond,

the Western Seas have passed away:

the world was fair in Durin's Day!"

The company took to the small instruments they had brought along on the journey, or had bought at some point and began to play. Ori donned his flute, hand carved by Dwalin as his first courting gift, and Bifur used a clarinet, the wood engraved with various markings and script. Balin took to his viol, and Fíli looked as though he would take out his fiddle, but decided to instead haul Kíli up and drag him into a dance. The lyrics to the Song of Durin had ceased and a simply jovial tune now flowed amongst the dwarves as the brothers danced, laughing carelessly. 

They each stood a few feet apart before clapping and spinning, then interlocked an arm and sashayed around in a circle, feet stomping to the beat. Thorin found himself nearly grinning as he watched them, feeling a ease in his chest that only a display like this could deliver. Bilbo clapped his hands to the beat and laughed as Fíli and Kíli grabbed hands and began to reel around, the hobbit beaming.

Thorin began to clap as well and Bilbo looked at him quickly, before daring to clap louder than Thorin. The dwarf raised a brow and cupped his hands slightly, allowing for a loud, booming sound to occur when his hands came together. Bilbo, bless him, tried harder yet, but dissolved into laughter when Fíli's feet slipped and he and Kíli went tumbling down. It was Ori who pulled Dwalin up next, his pleading smile too much for him to resist. Bilbo laughed into his drink after Gloín pushed another one towards him, taking large gulps of the ale when he could manage. 

As much as Dwalin always said that he loathed dancing, the dwarf practically radiated happiness as he and Ori interlocked arms, moving around the circle with possibly the hugest grins Thorin had ever seen. It made him inexplicably pleased to see Dwalin so content with Ori, a deserving soul who had managed to find his One. When the two of them came out of the circle, stumbling from dizziness and and perhaps not so soberness, Thorin wished them only the best of luck and good fortune for the rest of their lives.

"Uncle! Come on, you and Bilbo! Up, up, up!" Kíli urged, he and Fíli coming up behind them and shoving them to their feet. Bilbo looked rather alarmed shaking his head.

"Oh no, I don't know the dance! I can't!"

"Thorin will show you!" Bofur called, sending a grin and a wink at Thorin as he went back to playing. Thorin took the first step, watching as Bilbo copied him a second later, looking up at him with a smile that said 'please don't let me look like a fool'.

Thorin smiled back at him before clapping and spinning, knowing Bilbo would do just the same. He swung his arm through Bilbo's and they went along to the beat, Thorin's heart soaring. When they took hands, there was a split second where Thorin paused, a pure shock going up from his hands and straight down his spine. They began to spin, faces focused directly on each other. Thorin no longer saw the hesitation from a moment before, but rather unabashed joy. He caught a glimpse of Ori and Dwalin, the former playing his flute again and tucked into Dwalin's side, the latter's heavy arm resting on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing and a hand protectively on his shoulder. They were both lucky in that aspect, Thorin thought. Though it had taken him far longer, he knew without a doubt, that Bilbo was his One. Fate had taken so much from him so that he could be broken, missing only a single piece that he had not known about before. Fate had brought Bilbo to him in the form of a jammed door and a foolish argument and Thorin was a better dwarf because of it. If there was anything good that had ever come out of something unplanned, this was it. Bilbo was it. Bilbo, with his smiles and his fretting, with his snarky attitude and bashfulness in the oddest of situations. He was the one Thorin was made to be with, here, with his weight and balance resting in Thorin's strong grip and the possibility of being let go and having to fall to the ground unheard of.

In the back of his mind, Thorin registered the sound he had been hearing since they began to spin as his own laughter, and he remotely wondered when the last time he had laughed like this was, and when the last time his own family had heard him like this. He knew then that even if Bilbo never thought of him in the same regard, the hobbit would hold his love so long as he breathed. He loved Bilbo with his entire being, and that was that.

* * *

 "I forgot my vest."

"Oh no." 

"Oh yes." They both began to snicker, finding hilarity in something that would've normally had them both having to walk all the way back to grab it. Spectacularly drunk and just able to find their way, Thorin had volunteered to bring Bilbo back home. The rest of the company hadn't delved quite as far into their drink as Thorin and Bilbo had, and it was only through Thorin nearly pleading that they let him go.

"Are you cold?" Thorin muttered. Bilbo nodded.

"Kinda. Hobbits dress in layers for a reason you know." Thorin nodded as he put his arm around Bilbo's shoulder, pulling him in close. Bilbo was stiff for a moment before he melted into Thorin's side, leaning his head against Thorin's chest and putting more of his weight on him. Thorin squeezed his shoulder and they trudged on, feet stumbling as they went.

"My hands hurt from clapping." Bilbo said, voice slurring as he began to giggle. Thorin laughed, nodding as he moved his arm from Bilbo's shoulder to around his back, then grabbed his hand.

"Better?"

"Mhmm." Bilbo mumbled, then added, "You're really warm."

Thorin squinted in the darkness, seeing Bag End up ahead, a lantern having been lit by someone earlier. "Dís says that dwarves with warm bodies have cold hearts."

"You have both." Bilbo said decidedly, smiling goofily at Thorin. They both began to laugh and Thorin grinned down at him, nearly sending them both to the ground as he stumbled over a rock. They laughed even louder up the final stretch to Bilbo's front door, which he pushed open with a grin. Bilbo continued to hold Thorin's hand and did not take his own back, instead looking up at him with a wide smile.

"That was fun. You're fun."

"And you're beautiful." Thorin slurred bluntly, watching with a growing smile as Bilbo flushed a deep red.

"You are too." He replied a moment later, words dropping off slightly as he stared up at Thorin. The dwarf found himself entranced in the depths of Bilbo's eyes, and realized blankly that he couldn't pick a color to name the shade. Hesitantly, he reached out and took Bilbo's other hand, the hobbit letting him do so with no struggle. Thorin ducked his head down and bent his knees, closing his eyes at the very last second.

Then, right there in the doorway of Bag End, Thorin kissed Bilbo.

* * *

 "He's back!" The members of the company who had managed to stay awake looked up at Nori's call, watching as Thorin lumbered into their clearing, somehow having managed to find his way back. Dwalin squinted at his friend's grin, firmly believing that he had never seen Thorin so happy.

"Why are you smilin'?" He asked curiously. Thorin himself plopped down onto the grass near the one of the dying fires and laid out, smiling all the while.

"I kissed him. Goodnight!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendly reminder that this story is slow burn and to not get your hopes up just yet
> 
> the song the dwarves were singing was the song of durin by the way
> 
> also, sorry for the delay in updating, school has been a bit hectic lately (i'm taking two college courses, and the workload is insane!)


	14. Chapter 14

When Bilbo had told Thorin that exercise and a bad meal were his only weaknesses, he hadn't been joking as much as he should've. Now, stuck in bed with a headache that threatened to destroy him and stomach that felt empty but still very, very unsteady, he realized that he should  _really_  start finding his limits on certain things.

Bilbo groaned in self pity as he lay in bed, head pounding and stomach churning. With a Baggins's disposition and a Took's ability to hold his drink, Bilbo had never fallen prey to a hangover as he had now. Whatever ale Bofur had secured last night, it packed a punch that Bilbo was unprepared for, and he was now paying the price for it.

Not that he wasn't content to lay in his warm bed and simply reflect on the past few days. His mind was stuck on the day Thorin had come to visit him and the dwarf had managed to weasel what was bothering him out of Bilbo. It astounded Bilbo sometimes, how much Thorin cared. Here he was, a lonely hobbit who ate too many scones and dirtied his best trousers while gardening, and yet Thorin had taken so much time and put so much energy into becoming close to him. Bilbo didn't doubt his friendship, nor any of the kind words or declarations of him being family, not for one second. In fact, he thought about it daily, reminding himself that he was not alone, that he still had family, and that they cared. But, at other times, he wondered if perhaps it had happened so quickly because Thorin was so far away from the rest of his own family. Yes, he had the company, all best friends or distant cousins, and Fíli and Kíli, the two nephews he adored no matter how much of a clot they could each be. But his sister and his brother were back home, and Thorin had the closest ties to them no matter what. Bilbo was an only child, and the closest near sibling bond he had ever formed was to Hamfast. But a real, familial bond like what Thorin had? Bilbo could only imagine how hard it must be to be without them.

Even if part of Thorin's motivation to choosing to befriend him was missing his siblings, Bilbo didn't mind. That was an initial thing if so, and he knew that Thorin valued him and cared now. He didn't worry so much about Thorin's intentions being selfish, for the dwarf knew fine well how much it had helped Bilbo, but he worried more about what would happen when Thorin went home. Friendship was strong indeed, but distance was a heavy thing to bear. Even three days was a bit of an adventure, too much for either of them to making regularly. Their communication dwindling until is was nothing was perhaps, one of Bilbo's greatest fears. Thorin had become his world so very quickly, and it felt right as rain to Bilbo.

Thorin seemed to also make him part of his own world, if the previous night was any indication. Thorin had made him feel so welcomed, so normal and as if he belonged without a doubt, and Bilbo didn't think there was any way to ever thank the dwarf for it. Of course, it was Bilbo's own dammed mind that had made last night a bit nervewracking. Oh, how his heart had pounded when Thorin had wiped at some stain on his face, the dwarf's thumb rough and calloused against his skin, sending a shiver right up his spine. His chest had ached with an acute, desperate longing when Thorin began to clap with him, that beautiful, bright smile on his handsome face as he easily beat him.

And the dancing! Bilbo had a feeling that Fíli and Kíli would be getting up to mischief, and went right to drinking so that he could always blame whatever happened on that. When Thorin had linked his arm in Bilbo's his heart had skipped a beat. Oh, but when their hands finally touched and his own were clasped in Thorin's much bigger ones, Bilbo's heart nearly stopped. His body had frozen for a split second and it was like ice and fire coursing through his veins as they began to spin, and Bilbo could feel his heart practically beating right out of his ribcage, high on the delightful sound of Thorin's laughter.

Regretfully, it all got rather fuzzy after that. Bilbo drank like it was his last chance to do so, hoping that it might still the beating of his heart and somehow help the dizziness that came with his elation. Truthfully, Bilbo didn't know much of what happened after Thorin made to bring him back to Bag End, not remembering much more than the first few moments of their walk.

He nearly shot up, eyes wide as he put his hands over his face. Oh, what if he had done something stupid?  _Did_  he do something stupid? Bilbo knew that he could become a bit of a chatterbox and rather touchy when drunk, and could only imagine the horrors he brought upon Thorin. Surely though, if he had done something, Thorin would tell him when asked! The dwarf would not just keep him in the dark in the end, no matter how awful or embarrassing whatever he did was.

Right?

Bilbo's stomach churned again and promptly shut down any efforts from him to go running off in search of Thorin. The hobbit groaned and scrunched his eyes shut, waiting for the nausea to pass. Another downfall of being alone? There was no one to help him nurse his hangover. 

* * *

Eventually, he did drag himself from bed, though it was not without a hefty amount of self pitying groans and whines that cursed whoever had invented ale. Bilbo shuffled into the kitchen, hands stuffed into the pockets of his patchwork dressing gown. He didn't even want to  _bother_  with making his mother's remedy, too exhausted to attempt to squeeze any juice out of a tomato.

A knock sounded on his door, quiet, but still far too loud for someone in Bilbo's situation.

"Okay, alright, I'm coming." He muttered, unwillingly walking towards the foyer. The door was knocked on again and Bilbo nearly snapped when he pulled it open.

"Hamfast." He said tiredly, shielding his eyes from the sun with his arm. A freezing wind blew in through the door and went right through Bilbo's thin sleepwear, making him flinch and scuttle away from the open door. The gardener let himself in without another word from Bilbo, pitying his friend rather acutely.

"Come on then, go sit. You've got no one to take care of you yet, so I'll just have to." He guided Bilbo into the sitting room, dashing to close the drapes and darken the room to a tolerable level. Bilbo sunk down into his chair, head lolling to the side as he opened his eyes. Hamfast looked a bit tired himself, the bags under his eyes speaking of weariness despite the gleam in them. His clothes also had a look of being neatly rumpled, as though they'd been set out and he'd thrown them on in a fit of excitement.

"Thank you." Bilbo said, grabbing the blanket from the back of the chair and draping it over himself. "You're the best friend a hobbit could ask for."

"Ah, just rest yourself. I'll make up your mum's remedy, yeah?" Hamfast deflected the compliment in his normal modest way before going off to pull the soothing drink together for Bilbo. The hobbit sighed, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his stomach. Hes was quite bothered that he couldn't remember what had happened after he and Thorin set off, and even that was a bit blurry. Usually, he was never so affected by drink, causing Bilbo to wonder just  _what_  type of ale the dwarves had served him.

"Thinking awfully hard?" Bilbo looked over as Hamfast came back into the room, carrying two cups. He set both down on the small table next to Bilbo's chairs with a smile.

"Just regretting my choices." Bilbo answered, taking first the remedy his mother had coined as a good fix to a hangover. He took a few small sips as Hamfast took a seat in the chair opposite of him.

"What choices would those be?" He asked curiously, voice taking a stalled edge. Bilbo squinted at him, trying to decipher whether or not he was overthinking the possibility of him having mucked something up.

"Drinking too much." He replied after finding no sign in Hamfast's earnest expression that he was hinting at something. "Letting myself be dragged into a dwarvish celebration."

"Yes, you seemed to have drunken a bit when you came tromping up the lane. You and Thorin, the pair of you giggling like fools."

Bilbo groaned in relief, glad that Thorin had been as drunk as he had. It certainly lowered the possibility of him remembering something embarrassing. "I do hope he made it to his camp alright."

"Could you imagine if he didn't?" Hamfast said, sounding amused. "End up finding him passed out in front of someone's gate."

"Poor fellow would be so embarrassed he would probably pack up and leave the Shire the instant he woke up." Bilbo chuckled. "Oh, I'd feel terrible though."

"I doubt he'd be leaving without a goodbye for you." Hamfast snickered. "I doubt even more that you'd let him go without a certain type of goodbye either."

"For someone so modest, you're absolutely filthy!" Bilbo snipped. "It isn't like that."

"It isn't?" Hamfast asked, raising a sly eyebrow. Bilbo gave him a narrow look.

"Why do you keep talking like that?"

"Like what?"

" Like you know something I don't!" Bilbo's face paled as he gave Hamfast a level look. "Oh, you do, don't you?"

"No."

"Liar. You awful, awful liar. What do you know? Is it bad? Did I do something bad?"

"No, of course no. It's just a bit..." he made a vague hand gesture. "You know."

"Actually, I don't know." Bilbo snapped, frowning. "Fine, don't tell me. I'll figure it out in my own time."

They lapsed into silence, Bilbo sipping at his drink in a huff, and Hamfast twiddling his thumbs as he waited for what was to come next.

"Will I be terribly embarrassed when I find out?"

"Oh yes."

"Valar, have mercy." 

* * *

Bilbo resigned himself to the realization that he was not invincible to alcohol's affects, and that the company were all hiding something from him. 

Just the company it seemed though, as Thorin appeared to be equally as confused as he was. He met up with them later that day, having squared his shoulders and dragged himself out into the waking world for small outing to the market to replenish his rather depleted pantry. His grandfather's and Gandalf's words clawed at the back of his mind, leading him to buy perhaps a bit too much. With the dwarves and their habit of popping by however, Bilbo knew that not a single bit of it would end up going to waste.

The weather had taken a chilly turn that day, and Bilbo shivered as he shifted his shopping baskets on his arm. The weather had caused the market to take a slight downturn in terms of attendance, and many who were there donned their heavier fall coats and a few, their scarves. Bilbo himself had forgone the latter, but his coat was a good deal thicker than what he had been wearing only a month prior.

A quick look down the lane where the smithy was showed only Bofur, Bifur, Dori, Balin, Oín and Gloín outside at the stands, and even they looked to be wearing an extra layer or two. Bilbo nearly winced when he realized that they must not be very prepared for this weather, having been prepared to be home and in nice warm beds, not cold thicket floors. 

There were a few hobbits at the stands, just fauntlings who stood on the tips of their toes and with chins on the tabletop, asking the dwarves questions to fill up whatever time their parents had decided to give them outside in the cold weather. Among them, Bilbo spotted Hamson, his golden curls bouncing as he rocked on his toes. Bofur seemed to be telling some sort of story, a wooden toy in his hand as he narrated it. The rest of the dwarves gave his story mild attention, instead focused on the gleeful faces of the children instead as they laughed.

"What sort of story is this?" Bilbo asked in a whisper, crouching down next to Hamson. The fauntling grinned as he turned towards him, the expression partly hidden in the scarf he wore.

"It's about a bear and a fox and they're good friends. But the bear is rather stupid."

"Oh, why is that?"

"He sleeps all day and never thinks that the fox is doing something bad. But the fox  _is_  doing something bad."

"What has he done?"

"He's eaten the butter they were gonna eat at Yule." Hamson leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "But it isn't even Yule yet! And he lied to the bear about it."

"Oh dear." Bilbo said, giving him a solemn look. "That is very bad indeed." Hamson nodded and began to solely listen to the rest of the story, watching as Bofur used a small carved toy of a fox to illustrate the story. Bilbo smiled as the tale came to the end, and the fauntlings protested.

"But the bear didn't eat any!" A little girl whose name Bilbo did not know protested. "He tricked him!"

"Aye, he did." Bofur said, sounding entertained. "That's why you must be careful who you trust. They might not be as nice as you thought, hm?"

"Now, run along." Dori said lightly, smiling. "It's a bit nippy and I don't think your parents would want you to freeze out here."

They groaned and protested, but the fauntlings still went on their way. Hamson quickly hugged Bilbo, his head only reaching the older hobbit's waist before running off with his playmates, chagrin over his story time being cut short forgotten.

"Well then. Hello." Bilbo said, smiling. "How are you all feeling?"

"We're the best of the bunch, I daresay." Balin told him. "The rest of them of are in the smithy. Can't take this chill with a headache like the one they have."

"But how are you, Bilbo? You drank quite a bit last night." Oín questioned and Bilbo shrugged.

"I felt awful this morning, for one. I don't know what kind of ale you gave me, but it had Hamfast over as soon as I was up to tend to me." Bilbo laughed. "I can't even remember anything after Thorin and I left the camp to bring me home."

"Really?" Gloín asked, sounding crestfallen. Bilbo pursed his lips slightly in confusion and nodded. Why would he sound that way?

"Yes." He answered slowly, then narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Oh, by the Maker no!" Dori answered. "It's just too bad that you don't remember, now we can make up any sort of story we want and you won't know if it's true."

Bilbo looked at him, aghast. "You wouldn't dare torture me like that."

"Oh yes, I wouldn't. Someone like Dwalin however..." Dori replied, trailing off as the rest of the dwarves laughed. Bilbo huffed a breath and shook his head, wincing and regretting the action a bit right after.

"I'm going in to see the others. It's too cold out here, by all that is green..." Bilbo waved to them as he went off to the entry of the forge, the thick wooden door only ajar, not wide open like it had been last month. Bilbo popped his head in first and relaxed when warm air rushed over him, then smiled when his name was called.

"Bilbo!" Ori greeted brightly, perking up from where he had been bent over his sketchbook at the long table in the front room of the smithy. Fíli grinned at him, and waved before elbowing his brother, who had appeared to have been dozing. The steady clang of a hammer on metal rung in Bilbo's ears as he set down his grocery bags in front of the table, sighing as he settled his elbows down and leaned against the warm wood.

"Afternoon. How are all you lazybones doing?"

"Lazybones!" Kíli yawned, tilting his head back as the noise poured out. "I'm rather offended!"

"You get offended over everything, hush." Bilbo retorted, drawing a laugh from the three of them. He smiled himself and propped his head up with his hand. "Where's everybody else?"

"Uncle and Dwalin are working in there." Fíli told him, gesturing towards the open doorway where the clanging resonated from. "Bombur and Nori went off on business. Shopping or something."

"You seem quite well, Bilbo." Kíli blurted, thinning his mouth into a flat line before speaking again. "Surprising really."

"Why surprising?"

"Well, it's not like he served  _hobbit_  ale. That was some good, old fashioned dwarf mead you were drinking!" Kíli exclaimed. "That stuff can knock anyone down, easy."

"Well, let me appease you by saying I felt awful this morning. Hamfast was kind enough to breath some life back into me before I came here." He sighed. "You've done it! You've successfully given me a hangover!"

The cheer that went up between the three dwarves warmed Bilbo, from his heart down to his very bones in a way that the heat of the smithy could not and he found himself grinning widely.

"Not a good enough one, if you're still movin' about." They all turned at the sound of Dwalin's voice, seeing him standing in the doorway. He had on his thick smith's apron and gloves, and his forehead shone with perspiration from the forge, and from the exertion of whatever he and Thorin had been working on. Bilbo waved his fingers at him.

"I quite nearly didn't get out of bed this morning, and that should suffice thank you very much." He snipped back, laughing when Dwalin grinned wolfishly. "Say, would you all care to come over for supper? I'd have to pick up some more groceries, but my home should be a good deal warmer than your camp will tonight."

"Supper sounds wonderful." Bilbo's attention snapped to Thorin at the sound of the dwarf's voice and his heart gave a little flutter. His mind was still stuck on the events of the night previous, dwelling on the closeness that they had fallen into. Bilbo swallowed and nodded, giving him a smile.

"Excellent. You seem well, Thorin. Not hungover, it seems."

"Please. You should've heard him whinin' in there." Dwalin snorted, then in a higher voice, "Why did I ever become a smith? My head hurts! Oh, I'm never drinkin' again!"

Everyone except Thorin laughed, the dwarf looking like he had bitten into a rather sour lemon. Bilbo hid his giggles behind his hand, making eye contact with Thorin and watching as he seemed to relax. The change was so slight however, that Bilbo figured he must've imagined it.

"Well, it's good that I'm not the only one suffering." Bilbo gave a glance towards his bags of groceries then sighed. "I ought to be going home. If you're all coming over, I must get down to cooking. Until then?"

"Until then." Thorin replied, and he crossed his arms with a small smile as Bilbo gave them all one last wave and picked up his bags again. He hollered a goodbye to the dwarves at the stands as he went off into the main part of the market again, a warmth in his heart even as the chill settled down upon his clothes.  

* * *

With reprehensible manners and a tendency to nearly blow out Bilbo's eardrums with the volume of their voices, the dwarves were by far, the hobbit's favorite people to have by for supper.

Of course, Hamfast and his family were a close second. But dinners with Hamfast had been a very common occurrence throughout his life and as such, didn't have much in store that Bilbo wasn't prepared for. Dwarves however, were a very different story. Bilbo didn't know if he was going to fall prey to a rather filthy story of someone's youth, or get roped into nearly telling one himself. He didn't know if a plate was going to be broken, if someone was going to get more on themselves then in their mouth, or if his home was going to he a near wreck at the end.

It was chaos, and he loved it.

Cooking of course, only added to it all. Bilbo could easily tell them to sod off and make  _him_  dinner for once, but frankly, he only trusted Bombur with any of his cookware and he knew that dwarf would loathe having to putter around his cramped space, so alien when compared to the magnificent kitchen back home he loved to go on about. Thus, without much hesitance as he enjoyed the activity, Bilbo set to cooking.

A part of him was already forcing him to ration the food, even if by a little bit. Obviously, the dwarves would notice, but Bilbo doubted they would complain or say something. He figured that Thorin had told them what had been plaguing Bilbo's time and mood not to be unconfidential, but rather to simply let them know to go a bit easier on him. Bilbo was grateful for that, even if it did mean he'd have 12 dwarves fretting over him and the Shire.

Fíli and Kíli didn't even bother knocking anymore, having finally taken to Bilbo's insistence that they just walk inside and he'd know who they were. It was rather hard  _not to_ , for the brothers had loud, distinctive voices that easily carried to him, wherever he was. And with their voices came the others, and soon Bilbo knew that all the dwarves were inside Bag End without even poking his head out to look.

"Evening, Bilbo!" Kíli hollered, and Bilbo heard the thump of boots before the heavy step of his approach. Kíli yawned as he walked into the kitchen, arms stretched out him front of him.

"Tiring day?" Bilbo asked, smiling as the rest of the company made their way in, some already carrying the extra chairs they would need at the table. Kíli nodded.

"Drinking is hefty work you know. Exhausts a dwarf."

"Oh, and I'm sure napping in the smithy earlier was quite exhausting too." Kíli grinned as he slid onto one of the benches at the table, his back facing the hearth. Bilbo looked up from the plate of bread he had been slicing to see Thorin walk in last, hovering by the doorway and observing his company. Bilbo smiled at him and waved his fingers before he picked up the plate and carried it to the table. Hungry dwarf hands immediately tried to snatch it up, but faltered under Bilbo's hard stare and in Dwalin's case, the slap of his hand.

"You'll ruin your supper by filling up on bread! Honestly, the nerve!" Bilbo scolded, huffing as he gestured for Thorin to come forward and take a seat. Bilbo turned back to the counter once more to retrieve the silverware he had set out and when he turned back, he sighed.

"Push over, someone. I'm not nearly as small as you all think."

There was a moment of hesitation before Fíli and Kíli both scooched over, leaving a spot open right next to Thorin. Bilbo stilled a moment, contemplating whether the two dwarves knew something he wasn't prepared for them to, or if he was being a blundering fool and was simply too on edge. Then, there came an eyebrow wiggle from Fíli, and a grin from Kíli that told Bilbo that they had a pretty good idea of his affliction, and that he was completely doomed.

Bilbo felt himself flush as he settled in between them, utensils cradled in his hands before he handed them off to be passed around. It was quite harrowing to have people know of something that was thought to be well hidden, and even more so when  the people in question were the dammed fellow's nephews. It was more than harrowing in a honesty, being much closer to downright terrifying.

"Are you alright, laddie? You look a bit pale." Balin's voice snapped him from his thoughts and Bilbo nodded quickly, picking up his fork.

"Oh yes, I'm fine. Just ah, got a bit dizzy. Haven't eaten a single thing today!"

Thorin looked as though he was going to say something, but any words were cut off by the flurry of motion as the dwarves all moved to put things on his plate, the volume level increasing in an instant. Soon, supper was underway, and Bilbo was dodging any stray food that was supposed to hit Fíli, Kíli, and sometimes Thorin with a grin on his face. They were all loud, obnoxious and lacking in manners at times, but Bilbo was just fine to continue dining with them. 

* * *

"Say Bilbo, why's the market gettin' all empty?" Bofur asked. Supper had concluded, but they all still sat at the table, plates pushed towards the middle and stacked, ready to be washed. The air was foggy with the smoke of pipe-weed, from both Bilbo's pipe and nearly all of the company's as well.

"Well, October is quite nearly over. It's getting cold as you know, so hobbits are going to start relying upon their stores rather than a weekly trip to the market." He answered, pausing to blow out a small smoke ring. "Why?"

"Well, we're you know, merchants."

"Oh." If anything could kill Bilbo's good news, it was something like that. "Yes, I'd nearly forgotten. Well then, how soon will you be...leaving?" Despite his best efforts, the hobbit could feel his voice grow a bit thick and catch on the last word. Oh blast, why had he taken Thorin's news that they would be staying longer for granted? Of course they'd be leaving when the market closed, it only made sense. Merchants indeed, but Bilbo really didn't care to acknowledge the travelling part.

"We don't know." Thorin told him, looking over at him. "If the days are going to be cold like this from now on, then it would make travelling difficult. Camping would be uncomfortable, to say the least."

"But you'll be camping if you stay here! I understand that you have trees to protect you from the wind, but once it starts snowing it'll be coming right down on you. Why, you'd all get sick!"

"Why don't we stay here then?" Kíli asked, snagging his brother's pipe and taking a puff. "That is, if you wouldn't mind."

"Kíli--" Thorin began to say, his voice warning. Bilbo put a hand on Thorin's arm, looking between him and his nephew.

"No, that'd be fine. It would be more than fine actually! In fact, I insist. You  _must_  stay here for whatever time remains. I won't have you out there freezing."

"Bilbo, we've been through worse." Thorin protested, shooting Kíli a look. "The Shire is much kinder than other places have been."

"As such," Bilbo told him. "I'd continue to extend the kindness and  _politely_  ask you to stay here. I will  _not_  have you out in cold!"

Though Bilbo would not admit it, the nightmares that had been plaguing him since planning for the upcoming winter began also included the dwarves, and at a startling frequency as well. Anything bad that could happen did, and it all too often woke Bilbo from sleep with a stifled yell and tears pricking at his eyes. The company all freezing to death had been the most common dream by far, with wolves and and whatever could get over the river tearing them apart in a gruesome, bloody mess trailing a close second. It was for his frame of mind and health that they stay at Bag End.

But he couldn't just tell him that, now could he?

"Please, Thorin. You wouldn't be a bother, and I'd quite like to know that you're safe. All of you. It'll all be fine." 

The dwarf looked as though he might refuse, sending a look around the table to gauge his friends' support. He finally sighed and nodded. "Yes, alright. We'll stay here."

"Dibs on one of the guest rooms!" Fíli cried, and he and Kíli scrambled away from the table hastily, trying to reach their desired room. Within movements, the more eager dwarves were off with a shout, racing each other to get the rooms they wanted. The rest of the company soon followed, obviously going to make sure they didn't break anything, and if they did, nothing Bilbo would miss too much. That left Bilbo and Thorin at the now empty table, pipes in hand and a bit dumbstruck.

"Well then. This seems to be a popular idea."

"Indeed."

They were both silent for a moment, listening to the commotion elsewhere in the smial before Thorin spoke. "Is it foolish of me to ask you to let me pay room and board?"

"Quite." He replied with a smile. "Although, I'm not very fond of chopping wood, so if you'd like, that would be a sufficient form of pay. Fighting lessons too."

"Pesky little hobbit." Thorin muttered. Bilbo laughed around the stem of his pipe, and fell silent again. After blowing out a few smoke rings, he set down the pipe.

"Thorin, do you think the company is hiding something? Like, they're not telling us something that happened when we were drunk."

"Of course they are." Thorin murmured, nearly  _huffing_. "They'll wait until the perfect moment, than embarrass us with whatever it was."

Bilbo drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "I don't remember anything after leaving the camp, in all honesty."

"That's more than me, at any rate." Thorin replied, and then he blew a wide smoke ring. "It can't be that bad, otherwise someone would've said something by now."

"We'll probably have a good laugh about it when we find out!" Bilbo told him, and he finished the bowl in his pipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can't tell i love writing bilbo interacting with kili it is my supreme weakness
> 
> i'm trying to make updates a weekly thing again, as we're finally getting into the good part but school has been very busy lately, and now i have extracirrular activities to attend to as well, so i might not be able to always make it on time
> 
> (p.s. hop on that train to drawing some fanart for this story. it would be very lovely)


	15. Chapter 15

Bag End was the dream home of any hobbit, with pretty round windows that let in light and an almost endless number of rooms. It felt homey despite the size, and even Thorin knew that any dwarf would be perfectly content to stay there.

Of course, the smial did belong to Bilbo, and as such, Thorin found himself subjected to various things he hadn't really been prepared for at first. Seeing Bilbo dressed in naught but a sleepshirt and dressing gown had given Thorin quite a wake up call the first time he rose and went into the kitchen, and the effect Bilbo's appearance had on him had yet to subside. From the way his chest ached at the way Bilbo treated him and the rest of the company as if they were his family by blood, to the way Thorin found himself wishing to  _hurry_  through his work if it meant going to Bag End sooner, Thorin dammed the whole idea of them staying in Bilbo's smial. He did bless the notion just as often, but that wasn't terribly important.

Thorin had graciously accepted Bilbo's offer for them to stay at Bag End for their time remaining because knowing Bilbo, if he refused it would only make him worry more. Already, Bilbo was quite fretful over he and his company, and without good reason too. Fíli and Kíli no doubt enjoyed the attention Bilbo bestowed upon them, always ones to revel in popularity. But with a situation as grim as the one hanging in the near future, Thorin was much happier allowing Bilbo to have one less thing to worry about. 

* * *

Thorin woke around the same time each day, a habit that had been formed too long ago to let go of it. For a moment, Thorin had no idea where he was, the bed too soft and warm to be his bedroll and blankets in the nearby thicket. Sense came back to him gradually, and with a sigh he closed his eyes again. Bilbo, as it turned out, had the same affliction as he, and Thorin listened as Bilbo's bedroom door opened, then clicked softly shut a moment later. Hobbit feet pattered off to the kitchen, and Thorin scrubbed a hand over his face. Bilbo's bedroom was next to his and so far, sleep had been elusive when he laid down. It drove Thorin up a wall, thinking about Bilbo each night. He could hear the hobbit moving about, drawers squeaking slightly as they were pulled open and rummaged through before being shut again. He could hear Bilbo go through his nightly routine before settling down and falling asleep seemingly without a problem. Such a trivial thing it was, and yet Thorin became fixated on it, not being able to sleep until Bilbo seemed to be. It was so very foolish, but it seemed that for the time being, he would persevere and simply deal with it.

Thorin lingered in bed for a few more minutes before sitting up, stretching his arms above his head with a heavy groan. He reached over onto the bedside table and squinted as he looked for the pack of matches Bilbo had left for him to light the candle that was needed to see this early. Thorin watched the flame flare for a moment as he lit the wick of the candle then blew out the match, waving the stick to distinguish any leftover spark. He shuffled from the warm shelter of blankets with a yawn, picking up the candle in its holder and going over to the chest of drawers against the wall and opening the top drawer. Bilbo had insisted that they make themselves as comfortable as possible, and proceeded to order them all to throw their dirty clothes in the washroom, no matter how much they didn't want someone else washing their clothes. In reality, it was mostly Thorin who complained, though Dori and Balin seemed to be a bit adverse to it as well, voicing concerns that they were taking advantage of his hospitality. Bilbo had blown them off with a scoff and proceeded to get down to washing their tunics, paying no mind to the defeated dwarves.

He set the candle down and grabbed a dark blue tunic, his favorite to the point of the fabric at the elbows being worn and the color faded from the sleeves being rolled up or rubbed against something. So much did he wear it, that when Thorin stuck his arms into the sleeves and moved to close the drawer, his elbow stuck right out of a hole that had formed in the threadbare section.

" _Ibzig_   _zu_..." Thorin swore under his breath, twisting the sleeve to look at it. The tear was minor and would've posed no problem if he decided to keep the sleeve rolled. But this tunic was one of thicker ones, and keeping the sleeves up when the weather was chilly really defeated the purpose. With a irritated sigh Thorin took it off and put on another one, tossing the blue over towards the bed. He'd ask Dori for the spare sewing kit he carried and fix it later when he had the time. Thorin blew out the candle then left the room and went off for the kitchen.

Bilbo woke up around the same time as he did each day, and proceeded to make breakfast for them all, enjoying the early morning quiet. Thorin had taken to joining him, reveling in the soft conversations had over tea while bacon sizzled on a pan.

Bilbo was standing at the counter, eyes closed as he blew at the steam that wafted from the cup when Thorin approached. The dwarf slowed his pace slightly, memorizing the scene in front of him as if he would never see it again. The curtains were wide open, letting in what sunlight there was and casting a light, almost angelic glow around Bilbo's curls. Thorin swallowed as he entered the kitchen, and watched Bilbo's eyes open and the scene disappear.

"Good morning." He greeted, smile warm. Thorin smiled back, shuffling to the table and sitting down with a heavy sigh. Bilbo came over to hand him a cup of tea, then the bowl of sugar after, sitting down himself as Thorin scooped it into his cup.

"Tough night?"

"Couldn't sleep." Thorin told him, resigned. It wasn't the actual truth, but it wasn't a lie either. Seeing Bilbo in his sleepshirt and robe breathed a sort of air into him, but still stole it from his lungs, leaving him at a neutral point from which there was no escape.

"Really? Do you need more blankets or anything?" Bilbo asked, taking a worried sip of his tea. Thorin shook his head, picking up the cup and soaking up the heat.

"No, I'm quite alright." He replied earnestly, giving him a small smile. "It happens sometimes, nothing to worry about."

"Well, if you say so." Bilbo replied, getting up from the table to tend to what he was making. Thorin watched him cook over the rim of his cup, looking away any time it seemed as though Bilbo would catch sight of him. The bacon smelled heavenly as he picked each piece from the pan and set it on the plate he had left nearby, then set to cracking eggs open. Thorin felt a flash of guilt, seeing as the food Bilbo made for them piled up on the platters. The poor hobbit was worried about not having enough food for the winter, but still set to making only the best for them. Of course, Bilbo ate what they did all the same, but the hobbit's internal worrying was not well hidden to Thorin.

"Want to go wake them all up? Breakfast is nearly done, and I'll be along to help in a moment."

"Of course." Thorin rose from the table with a groan, stretching his arms as he left the kitchen and went down the hall. He walked past his nephews' door, knowing that Bilbo liked to wake them up. First was Dwalin and Ori, a groan surfacing quietly when Thorin rapped on the door with his knuckles.

"Come on, there's breakfast!" Bilbo called as he came down the hall, opening Fíli and Kíli's door and slipping inside. Thorin paused for a moment, debating whether he should continue waking up his friends or watch as Bilbo treated his nephews' as if they were his own. The latter made his chest ache with such an acute longing that Thorin didn't know how he had ever lived without the hobbit.

In the end, Thorin continued waking up the rest of his company, though at a more hurried pace than before. Watching Bilbo the way he had considered would only give them all something to tease him about, especially since he still had no idea what they were hinting at each time someone brought up whatever drunken antics he had engaged in on Durin's Day. Calling him old and forgetful was really as far as they could get with any jokes, and he knew that it simply wasn't enough.

He did, however, take a quick peek as he went to go back to the kitchen. Fíli and Kíli were notoriously heavy sleepers, and even more so now that they had a warm bed to lay in. Bilbo had managed to rouse Fíli, the dwarf sitting up in the bed with such a wavering posture that it looked as though he might drop right back down into the pillows. Bilbo was at Kíli's side of the bed, jostling his shoulder lightly, then progressively harder.

"Get up, you lazy oaf!"

"No." Kíli whined, turning away and shoving his face into the pillow.  Bilbo huffed.

"I'll eat your breakfast."

"Don't care."

"I made bacon."

"You always make bacon."

"C'mon Kíli, don't be a hardass. Get up." Fíli said blearily, dragging himself from the bed with as much grace as someone who seemed to still be asleep right on their feet could muster. Bilbo was still trying to get Kíli up and had not noticed Thorin, and continued as so when the dwarf ducked out of the room.

"Subtle. Real subtle." Dwalin rumbled as he walked past, earning a nasty glare from Thorin.

Damn him, and damn all this foolish love.

* * *

Perhaps he had gotten a bit carried away with this, but it really was inevitable and Dwalin should've stopped him when he first told him about it.

"I know that things are slowin' down, but if a lack of work makes you engrave for three days straight, we've got a problem."

"Be quiet." Thorin muttered, throwing a quick scowl at Dwalin. The other dwarf was sitting only a little bit away, adding the finishing touches to a ring made of steel; an odd choice for a hobbit buyer, in Thorin's opinion.

"It isn't even a courtin' gift for him. You haven't even asked him." Dwalin looked up from his work. "Have you?"

"No." Thorin growled, shoulders hunching. Ever since Durin's Day, the number of times a day Thorin found himself being asked about his status in courting Bilbo had increased exponentially. Even Balin, who decided with a wise mind to leave Thorin to it until he needed help had caved and questioned him. And yes, Thorin had been a bit...touchy with Bilbo that night, but the hobbit didn't act as though he noticed it as anymore than a few friendly gestures.

"Get on with it!" Dwalin said, focusing back on his work. "None of us are gonna take him from you, but maybe he'll ended up wooed by a Ranger if you don't stake claim."

"Asking if he would enter a courtship is not staking claim." Thorin sighed. "And a Ranger? Really, you think so?"

"No, but it got you worryin'." Dwalin cracked a grin. "I don't think he'd turn you down. There's no harm in askin'."

"No harm until we have no place to go but home." Thorin murmured, hands stilling. He looked down at the small sword he had been crafting for days, the steel glinting in the light. Bilbo was worried about any creatures coming into the Shire during the winter, and would have a sword at his disposal as a result. It would make it easier to train with him as well, as he could grow used to having the weight of something more than a stick in hands. Thorin knew that he was putting a lot of effort into it, maybe too much, but how could he not? He hadn't a clue about what the rest of the company and Bilbo had talked about the many times he wasn't around, and for all he knew, Bilbo could already understand dwarvish courting traditions and rituals.

"He wouldn't kick us out." Dwalin told him, sighing as he smoothed his finger over the engraving on the ring's exterior. "...He might not feel the same way, but who knows?"

"I know."

"No, you don't. Shut up and work on that letter opener." 

Thorin went back to work without another word, thinking only of the hobbit at Bag End and choices he needed to make.

* * *

Bag End had a certain homey feel to it that Thorin hadn't felt in nearly two years, one that called to him and welcomed him as soon as he took one step through the door. The weather was actually pleasant and the walk to Bilbo's smial didn't leave him feeling chilled. Fíli and Kíli were already ahead as usual, having skipped out a few minutes earlier than everyone else in order to have the first pick at whatever Bilbo had set out for food. Thorin knew that he ought to say something, but he instead simply shrugged it off and muttered about the work that went into being a guardian of his nephews.

The finished sword was heavy in his hand, despite the absolutely meager weight it had. It felt far too light for Thorin, not flimsy and ready to break of course, but not the steady type that he was used to.  _He_  had made it however, and steady and reliable was one quality a creation would not be without. Besides, a light, compact sword would only work to Bilbo's advantage if the time ever came where he had to use it.

"Are you going to ask him?" Balin questioned, coming up beside him. Thorin's eyes stayed looked forward, but he swallowed heavily at the question.

"Does it matter?"

"Aye, it does." Balin sighed. "Thorin, you'll drive yourself mad dancing around it like this. You wanted to stay so you could win his heart, and..." Balin trailed off suddenly and Thorin finally looked at him, watching an odd look flicker across Balin's features.

"And you'll never know until you ask him." The dwarf added quickly, in a hasty manner that was distinctly not normal Balin etiquette.

"Dwalin said the same thing." Thorin said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. He stopped suddenly, eyes widening as he looked at his cousin. "You know something, don't you? What do you know?"

"Nothing."

"Do not keep things from me, Balin. This is no simple thing I am trying to make choices about! If you know something, tell me dammit!"

Balin was starting to look like he'd bitten into something quite sour, and was awfully sorry about it. But he shook his head, sighing. "I know nothing of importance. What I told you would only ruin things, and it would do you good not to know what it is." Balin began to walk again, pace increased. Thorin scowled and followed after, hand clutching the sword's hilt.

"Fine, don't tell me. But I must know, is it about him? Is it something pertaining only to Bilbo?"

"Not exactly." Balin answered immediately, then grimaced. "Just...pay it no mind. You'll regret knowing as soon as you  _do_  find out."

They both fell silent and stayed that way until they reached Bag End, the round door opening as Thorin pushed it. For a moment, he found himself flung into the past, where he was walking into Bag End for the first time and there were no pairs of dwarvish boots tossed haphazardly under the coat hooks, no laughing echoing from the kitchen, and no hobbit with a sad past hidden under a smile in a home that was too big for him. Thorin drew in a deep breath as he looked around, realizing just how unexpected his life had turned out to be. Even after he had moved from Erebor to Ered Luin, his plans were simple and nearly set in stone. Thorin would live his life as a smith, with friends and family and he would never find another whom he'd wish to call his own. Yet, here he was, in the most unexpected land with his company laughing and cracking jokes in the kitchen of a hobbit, who had  _yelled_  at him during their first meeting, and still entrapped his heart so. Thorin looked down at the sword in his hand and knew that he had to face what he wished, and accept any challenges that would come with the desired goal.

"Are you alright? You're taking an awfully long time to take off your boots." He looked up at the sound of Bilbo's voice to see the hobbit coming down the round hallway, his smile showing a slightest flicker of concern. Thorin nodded, hand tightening around the hilt of the sword until his knuckles were white.

"Bilbo, I..." his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his throat closed, the words becoming a garbled mess in his head. It was so easy to simply say it, to come right out and confess and find if the feeling was mutual. He could have what he dreamed of, what his heart longed for, what he was  _destined_  for.

"This is for you. It will help with training, you'll be able to get used to a sword." Thorin's hands did not shake as he held out the weapon, but his heart did shudder as his hands brushed Bilbo's in the exchange. Bilbo stared at the item in awe, eyes wide as he inspected it.

"You made this? For me?"

"Well, Dwalin helped."

Bilbo's face broke into a large grin, a mirror image of his expression when they had danced on Durin's Day. He swallowed and the smile flickered as he found a small set of words at the base of the blade. His fingers went out and traced them, mouth forming the Khuzdul phrase.

"Dwarf-friend." He said softly, head rising to look at Thorin. The dwarf nodded, and gave him a small smile.

"Indeed."

"Oh, oh dear, Thorin, this is just...so..." Bilbo's words faltered and his mouth moved without noise as he searched for the correct thing to say when words could not sum up how he felt. Bilbo blinked hard, and for a moment Thorin expected him to cry. Instead, Bilbo dropped the sword as lightly as possible and rushed forward, arms wrapping around Thorin's waist as he hugged him. Thorin was stricken for a moment, not having anticipated his actions. He melted into the embrace the next moment however, arms going around Bilbo's shoulders as the hobbit laid his head against Thorin's chest.

"Thank you, thank you so much." Bilbo murmured, and Thorin could only nod. He was a coward, a frightened, spineless coward who couldn't manage to say words that could very well be requited. Thorin knew what he had to do, and he knew that putting it off would only make success more difficult. But tue fear of rejection, the fear of permanently breaking what bond they had and making his life one without Bilbo Baggins was too great.

"You're welcome." He managed to croak. 

* * *

Thorin had been expecting a dressing down from someone by the end of the night, like Dwalin, or Bofur, or maybe Fíli and Kíli. The way his company's faces had fallen when he walked into the kitchen with a defeated slump to his shoulders had made Thorin feel his cowardice like a knife to the heart.

None had breathed a word about it yet, but the mood at supper had been a bit stilled. Not enough to make Bilbo say anything, but Thorin was sure he had noticed it, even if just a little. Thorin had resigned himself to perhaps getting away without a single word from his friends and family, feeling wretched and as though he didn't deserve a single phrase when Ori came to him with a frantic knock on his door.

Thorin had gotten Dori's travel kit for sewing from him and had been trying to fix the hole in his tunic for nearly an hour, but sewing certainly wasn't as easy as it appeared. Ugly, bunched stitches and bleeding fingers from pricking needles was the worst of his dilemma, and he was glad to have someone interrupt him from it, even if he wasn't happy about the reason why.

"Oh, I can't take it anymore!" He exclaimed as soon as Thorin opened the door, pushing his way past and crossing his arms. Thorin closed the door with a sigh, turning towards him.

"This is none of your concern--"

"It most certainly is my concern! You wanted to stay here so you could court Bilbo, and I won't stand to see you dance around him the way you do!" Ori balled his fists and put them at his side, irritation practically wafting off him.

"I don't  _dance_  around him." Thorin sneered, annoyance mixing with his shame and making his hackles rise.

"Sorry, would you prefer a different word? Stumble perhaps?" The young dwarf shook his head, exasperation evident. "You made him a  _sword_ , Thorin. The first gift in a courtship is a weapon! If anyone back home knew, could you imagine what they'd say? You'd be branded a coward!"

"I know that!" Thorin shot back. "I do not care what they would think of me, Ori, understand that. I was not made to attend to other people's wills and opinions."

"You would care if they said it about him though." Ori pointed out. "You might not care if you're called a coward, but the moment someone says something awful about him you're as vicious as a warg!" Ori began to pace, fingers picking at loose threads on his knitted gloves as he muttered something. "This has gone on far too long."

"You would not dare tell him." Thorin breathed, backing up to stand in front of the door. Ori rolled his eyes.

"I would never! It's not that, it's..." he stopped suddenly, breathing out. Ori stopped and ok at Thorin, gaze focused solely on him. "What do you remember from Durin's Day? From when you brought Bilbo home?"

"Not much." Thorin admitted, body still stiff as he hovered in front of the door. "I remember leaving the camp, walking a little bit."

"Thats it?"

"Yes." Thorin said peevishly. "Why are you all asking about that?" The dwarf froze. "I did something?"

Ori nodded, his expression conveying sympathy. "Oh yes."

"How do you all know it then?" A sick feeling washed over Thorin and he shook his head. "Did Bilbo tell you? He said he didn't remember--"

"Bilbo didn't tell us." Ori blurted. "You did."

"But I don't remember what I did!" Thorin cried. "If this is just some tactic at getting me to tell him--"

"You were really drunk and you came back with this goofy smile and you said you kissed him! How could you not remember?!" Ori exclaimed, and in a moment all the fight went out of him as he watched Thorin's eyes widen. "Thorin, don't... don't freak out--"

"I kissed him?" Thorin whispered, the color having drained from his face and left his skin ashen. The dwarf sagged against the door and tangled his fingers in his hair, mouthing the words silently. "Oh Mahal, what have I  _done_?"

"Now, it's not that bad." Ori soothed, feeling quite out of place now that all his frustration had been spent. "I mean, he doesn't even remember!"

"I must tell him now!" Thorin moaned. "I thought I was a coward before, but to not pursue him after I've already took action! My mother would've had my beard." Thorin made to move to turn and open the door, put Ori surged forward and grabbed Thorin's arm, shaking his head.

"You mustn't! Let me talk to him, aye?" Ori said."You need time to think all this over, and, well, maybe it won't seem so bad tomorrow!"

"How could it be any better?" Thorin muttered, moving from the door and wrenching his arm from Ori's grip. He sat down heavily on the bed, head hung as he tried to breathe. It was as though weights had been placed on his chest, light by themselves, but together a huge massive force that threatened to crush him. Ori stayed for a few more seconds before he let himself out of the room, closing the door quietly. Thorin scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing. He looked over at his abandoned tunic beside him for a moment before picking it up again, along with the needle and trying to continue fixing the sleeve. When his finger was pricked yet again, he sighed deeply, low and utterly anguished. A knock came to his door once more, and Thorin looked up sharply. Ori had already yelled at him, wouldn't the rest of the company know by now?

"Thorin? May I come in?" Bilbo called, and the blood in the dwarf's veins turned to ice. No, no, no, he couldn't face Bilbo now, not like this. Though he may have been drunk, to kiss Bilbo when the hobbit himself was compromised was utterly cowardly, and the shame Thorin felt over it continued to mount. To top it all off, neither of them even  _remember_ _ed_ it, or at least Thorin didn't and poor Bilbo was keeping his mouth shut out of pure mortification.

"Of course." Thorin answered, wrangling his voice into a somewhat normal tone. He clenched the needle and his tunic tightly as Bilbo opened the door, his concerned face looking through.

"Is everything alright? I...well, I heard some raised voices. Not that I heard what you were saying!" Bilbo told him hastily, cheeks flushing a bit. "But well, it sounded a bit...not happy."

"All is well." Thorin lied. "Just some things about home."

"Oh! Well, then. That's good." Bilbo replied with a nod, eyes scanning the room before falling on Thorin's project in his hands. "Are you sewing?"

"Yes."

"You? You know how to sew?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Oh nothing! It just seems ah, not really your type of activity."

"What is my type then?"

"Mostly setting things on fire and making good use of the nearby ale." Bilbo said with a smile. Though he felt wretched and did not deserve to do so, Thorin smiled back, his grip easing on the needle. "But seriously, you do know how?"

"No." Thorin responded, looking at his bunched stitches. "I'm actually quite terrible at it."

"Oh, then let me help." Bilbo came into the room fully now, closing the door behind him. Thorin's chest seemed to constrict as he came to stand in front of him, looking down at the tunic with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it  _could_  be worse."

"You can say that I'm awful at it, I shan't be upset." Thorin grimaced. "I'd agree, in all honesty."

"Here, give it to me." Bilbo said, taking a seat next to Thorin on the bed. The dwarf did as he was asked without a single response, throat closed up and words unable to form. Bilbo tsked as he undid the stitches Thorin had made, pulling them out with a near expert speed. "I would've done this if you'd asked."

"There was no need to. I would have managed."

" _Okay_." Bilbo snorted, rolling his eyes as he bit off the thread. "Managing is not the same as succeeding. Nor would it look half as good."

"Then it is a miracle I have you here." The words slipped free before Thorin could reign them in, and his mouth snapped shut immediately. Bilbo's hands did not still in their stitching, but the way the hobbit's mouth twisted in a flustered smile and his cheeks blushed told Thorin that he was as foolish as his words. Poor Bilbo, the hobbit was probably beside himself in his pity for Thorin. The dwarf wondered if Bilbo had been lying when he said he didn't remember anything, if only to save Thorin from his own horror. He wouldn't put it against him, though he couldn't imagine doing the same thing.

But then again, he and Bilbo were not the same.

"Sewing isn't that hard once you do it enough, though it is a mighty pain when you're first starting. I suppose your fingers are rather tender?"

"Covered in needle marks yes, tender no. They've long been calloused and burnt by my work, and the tips don't have all the feeling they should."

"Us hobbits have soft hands then." Bilbo told him. "The worst you'll really find is roughness from holding farm tools all day. Not a problem though, we  _manage_  just fine." Thorin found himself smiling again at the hobbit's jibe, heart skipping at the brightness of his grin. Bilbo gave a little sigh as he continued to stitch, eyes trained on the thread as the needle dipped in and out of the rich blue fabric. They were silent throughout the procedure, both Thorin and Bilbo focused on the hobbit's work.

"Thank you again, for the sword." Bilbo said quietly, fingers smoothing over a tight, narrow line of stitches as he looked at Thorin. "You've put so much time and energy into helping me become better prepared for what's to come, and...I just cannot thank you enough."

"No thanks are needed. If anyone, it is you who deserves them." Thorin told him, meeting Bilbo's gaze. "You've done more for my company and I than people of our own race have. By Mahal, I was rude to you on our first meeting and you still wished to be on good terms! To offer us friendship, a good meal and a place to stay, you bear the title just as well as your sword does." Thorin gave him an earnest smile, ignoring the screams of warning from his mind. "Bilbo, you are an extraordinary being, and I will forever be indebted to you."

The expression that came over Bilbo's face was unprecedented, or to Thorin at least. His ears flushed while the rest of his face remained its normal shade, perhaps even paling a bit. Bilbo seemed to be frozen for a moment before he looked down with a small sigh, mouth picking up at the corners slightly.

"Thorin, I was a wretched hobbit living all alone before you and everyone else up and crashed into my life. I never realized how lonely Bag End was until I first had everyone over for dinner, and well, it made me realize what I had been missing. I've got plenty of family, but you're all...you're all so much more. They really do pale in comparison to you lot." Bilbo said sheepishly, then laughed a bit. "I would never dream of calling you indebted, not with how much you've already given me.

Bilbo stared at the tunic for one more moment before handing it back to Thorin with a smile. "There you are. Ask if you need help, hm? I'll be sure to do what I can."

Thorin was silent as Bilbo rose and set the needle and spool of thread on the bedside table then made for the door. He turned back to give Thorin one last smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Thorin replied, and gave the hobbit a nod as he slipped out of the room. The door clicked shut as Thorin fell back against the bed, hands clutching the tunic as though it was a lifeline. He was a fool, but a fool who was desperately in love.

Bilbo deserved no less than the whole truth, and right from the person who caused it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ibzig zu - damn you
> 
> also homework sucks and leaves me with no writing time sorry


	16. Chapter 16

If being a product of both the Took and Baggins family had given Bilbo anything, it was a vast amount of patience and diplomacy in dicey situations he was always getting dragged into. 

With both sides, a hobbit needed to learn how to keep track of who wasn't talking with who, any drama that had popped up because of the latter, and how to work around it all. Bilbo had known from a young age who to be extra polite to and who he could he much more open with, and frankly, he thought he had it all down to a tee.

But it seemed that when the situations hit so close to home, in the most literal sense, he was at a bit of a loss.

Bilbo didn't want to say that Thorin was avoiding him, as it wasn't really true, but in recent days the dwarf had become more reserved and stilled than Bilbo had seen him be in a long time. Of course, he still rose each morning and sat with Bilbo, drinking tea as breakfast cooked, but the quiet conversations that Bilbo had ended up adoring were now nearly absent, and Thorin always had an odd look on his face. Bilbo hadn't thought the dwarf was telling the truth when he had said that there was something back home that had made he and Ori have it out, but now he begged to differ. Thorin was obviously upset over  _something_ , and Bilbo didn't know what else would make him this way than his family. The ravens from Ered Luin still came to drop letters off, though the dropping temperature had caused delays. The last letter had been days ago, and Thorin hadn't shown any sign that something had happened when he read it. He'd nearly blanched at one point, but Bofur had helpfully provided that Dis's letters always made him do that, and it was a sign that all was well back home.

That left Bilbo at a loss for what had suddenly afflicted Thorin, and was prepared to get to the bottom of it. He had been perfectly fine up until the day after he and Ori's row, and the rest of the company had been as unhelpful as a broken pair of gardening shears. He didn't know or understand what had happened, but he most certainly wasn't happy with it.

As much as it bothered him, Bilbo doubted that Thorin was in the mood to be pestered. That dwarf could be notoriously sour when his mood was less than optimal and Bilbo was certain that they'd end up in a row themselves if Thorin somehow took something the wrong way. Difficult as this all was, Bilbo was sure he'd figure it all out soon enough. 

* * *

The day presented itself in a fashion that had become the norm, with the sun shining through a thin veil of clouds and a chilly bite to the temperature that had them all wearing thicker clothes. Bilbo threw on his dressing gown with a shiver as he rose from bed, finding his way through the darkness without a candle from experience and familiarity. The outside hall was dark as well, the candles that Bilbo set out for the night nearly melted down to nothing. He lingered for a moment, wondering if he should set new ones out, but decided to do it later and simply went off to the kitchen.

Each morning, Bilbo followed a routine. Of course, it was different from the one he had months earlier, before he had a group of dwarves who ate all his food and destroyed the plumbing and filled Bag End up the way it was meant to be. He would rise before anyone else and make himself a cup of tea, the warm liquid bringing him to full wakefulness. While the water boiled, he would grab the ingredients for breakfast, sometimes bacon, almost always eggs, and each day a loaf of bread with a pot of honey. It had been from laziness that Bilbo had set it out one morning, knowing that personally, it was one of his favorites and that the dwarves would eat anything that wasn't green.  in short, they'd taken to the quick meal and Bilbo had begun to include it in breakfast each morning.

The sound of a floorboard creaking captured his attention and Bilbo steeled himself. He'd vowed to ask Thorin about what was wrong, seeing the spot of time before they went to wake everyone else as the perfect opportunity. There would be no interruptions, no pressure and it would all go smoothly.

That is, if it was actually Thorin who came into the kitchen.

Not that Bilbo wasn't happy to see Ori! He got on quite well with the youngest dwarf who was much older in terms of maturity, but at the moment, he wasn't really who Bilbo had his sights on.

"Good morning." Ori greeted, fiddling with a string on his gloves. The dwarf was always wearing them, and Bilbo could only think of a few times when he'd seem him with bare hands, Ori choosing to even sleep with them on. Bilbo smiled back and nodded at him.

"Good morning. You're up rather early, aren't you?"

"Oh, not too early." Ori replied, moving to take a seat at the table. The kettle began to whistle, and Bilbo moved to take care of his tea, gathering the cup and leaves to brew. "Besides, I uh, wanted to talk to you!"

"Really?" Bilbo asked, surprised. He looked over his shoulder as he put the tea leaves in the strainer, a small, metal one that he had commissioned Thorin for a few months back after his broke. It was similar to a small metal case in the shape of a loose circle, except it had holes in it and a chain attached to the top. It was much easier than brewing a whole pot, especially when not many of those in the company liked the drink. "About what?"

Ori hesitated, eyes focused everywhere but Bilbo. "It's important. And I need you to be absolutely truthful! You can do that, right?"

"Yes, of course." Bilbo told him, tone becoming worried as he moved to the table. He had already taken out the pan to begin cooking eggs and some hash, but breakfast could wait. He settled down into his seat with the cup of tea warming his palms. "What is it?"

Ori closed his eyes and sighed, fingers drumming on the table as he tried to begin. "Bilbo, you might think that you're doing a swell job of hiding it, and you did at first, but I know. I'm pretty sure everyone does."

Bilbo found it hard to swallow and he clenched the tea cup tightly, skin beginning to burn from the heat. "What are you talking about?"

Ori looked at him with the most withering look he could manage. It didn't compare to Thorin's, but from such a mild mannered dwarf, it was just as effective. Bilbo sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping as he sighed tiredly. "You promised to tell the truth. Bilbo, none of us are going to object. We'd all rather urge to tell him, since what's going on is just nonsense." Ori reached out to touch his hand. "Bilbo, how do you feel about Thorin?"

"Must I say it?" Bilbo asked. "I wasn't smart enough to hide what should be hidden, and you already know! What's the point in having me say it?"

"You say it in all but words, Bilbo. You look at him the way Dwalin looks at me, and I know what it means. Just indulge me? I won't tell anyone else, I swear."

"You said they already know!" Bilbo hissed, anger and self contempt flaring up. He was so stupid, how could he have not been more careful. When Ori said everyone, did that include Thorin? Had the dwarf just been trying to let him down easy?

"They have educated guesses." Ori tried to soothe. "And Thorin doesn't know. He's a blind dope at the best of times, and none of us would dare tell him. It's all fine."

Bilbo nodded slowly, mouth screwed shut. He closed his eyes and tried to breath, trying to find the courage that filled him when he was alone with Thorin and telling him seemed to be the easiest thing in Middle Earth. He trusted Ori not to tell Thorin, and trusted the inevitable spread of the news to be kept quiet and not reach the dwarf before he did. Bilbo had told it to Gandalf, he could tell it to Ori. Bilbo nodded again, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

"I...love him. Yes. I love him." He whispered, exhaling heavily. He hadn't put sugar or milk in his tea, so the anxious sip he took of it was bland and nearly scalding. Bilbo swallowed it painfully, focusing on the burn rather than Ori's smile, because the dwarf didn't understand how nerve wracking this all was. Thorin was within shouting distance, and noise carried very well as it was in the round halls of Bag End. Telling Gandalf had been easier, with the subject of his regard being quite a ways away, and the wizard having been a life long confidante. That wasn't to say that he didn't trust the company! He really did trust all the dwarves, but  _some_  of them just happened to be awful at being subtle about things. That, and Fíli and Kíli were just deplorable at keeping anything a secret.

Ori's smile faded a bit and he nodded. "Okay, good. Now, I'm going to end up telling you something, and you have to promise not to freak out."

Bilbo groaned. "Oh, Yavanna save me. I can't handle this."

Ori took that as a sign that he was welcome to continue on, and did just so. "Do you remember anything from Durin's Day. Say, around the time that Thorin took you home?"

"Nothing really." Bilbo said, shaking his head. "I uh, leaned on him a bit. Oh, he remembers something I don't, doesn't he?" Bilbo groaned in misery. Wonderful, this was just what he needed.

"Oh no, he doesn't remember." Ori said quickly. "But well, he does know. Someone told him."

"What is it then?!" Bilbo asked nervously. "Hamfast said he knows too, and that I would be terribly embarrassed. Is it bad?"

"Well, with the answers you've given me, technically not--"

"Ori! Tell me!"

"You two kissed!"

While Ori's reveal was in a near whisper, the words hissed like a kettle would begin to when the water boiled, Bilbo felt that they were amplified, as if the dwarf had outright shouted them, over and over until the phrase was moving as steadily as a wheel in his head, and his ears seemed clouded, filled, like water was rushing and he could hear nothing else. Ori had been as quiet as he could, but Bilbo still stood quickly, nearly tipping his teacup over as he clamped a hand down on his mouth. Ori made a muffled noise of surprise and he looked at Bilbo intently, watching for his reaction.

Bilbo's throat convulsed, and his mind scrambled for words, only managing to bring forth a mangled "What?"

"You and Thorin kissed." Ori repeated quietly, moving Bilbo's hand. "We heard it along the gold vein, and well, neither of you were acting differently the next day, so...everyone assumed you had forgotten. And you did!" Ori said the last part as if it was something good, and in a way it was. The action he had wanted to make for months had been made, and well, that was the good part. The bad, however, ranged from the fact that he had  _no_ recollection of it  _at all_ , and that oh, Thorin himself knew about it. 

Bilbo sunk back down into his chair, head hanging. He felt a bit like crying, in all honesty. This was not how things were supposed to go, he had a  _plan._ He was going to win Thorin's heart, but now all that had been mucked up, and what had he to show for it? A few simple words and a panic attack beginning to well up inside him?

_Fantastic_ _job, Bilbo._ _You've_ _ruined_ _everything_ _,_  he thought miserably, eyes shutting. Bilbo could sense Ori's worry beginning to build, the dwarf's fingers drumming on the table again.

"It's not that bad. Could be worse."

"No, no it couldn't!" Bilbo spat, hands clenched on his legs. "I've ruined everything! You don't understand Ori, this isn't just something we can let go." Bilbo moved from the table as quickly as he could, fingers tangling in his hair. The room felt too small, as if it was closing in on him and threatening to cave in. "I have somewhere to go. I'll be back later."

"Bilbo, calm down. Please!" Ori said, alarmed by his friend's behavior. Bilbo had received far worse news in the past, hadn't he? A little kiss was nothing to worry about. He followed Bilbo as the hobbit hurried back to his room, his footsteps light and nearly silent in his haste. Bilbo closed the door as Ori tried to follow, and the dwarf sighed. As long as he'd known him, Thorin was the one who threw temper tantrums and fled. Bilbo was the voice of reason! Ori bit his lip and wondered whether he should try and get in through the door using some tricks Nori had taught him when Dori's attention was on something else. Thorin was no doubt awake, and he probably had been for awhile. With the way their voices had grown a bit at that end bit, no doubt some of the others in the company were awake as well.

The door opened again and showed that Bilbo had dressed hastily, his nightshirt tucked into his breeches and a burgundy dinner jacket over it. He hadn't even bothered with a waistcoat, simply pushing past Ori and hurrying down the hall and moments later, out the door. It took a minute, but the respective doors slowly opened and showed Dwalin, Balin and Dori with wide eyes and grim faces. Thorin's door opened last, and his look of utter wretchedness was more than enough to make Ori regret trying to help the situation.

* * *

Bilbo realized that it was quite cold out, and that leaving Bag End had been unbelievably stupid. He also realized, that frankly he had no idea where he was going.

Bilbo tucked his chilly hands under his arms as he tried to breathe and slowed his pace, walking down Bagshot Row. It hadn't been his fault that he stormed out, honestly. As a fauntling, when he found himself in a panic, he had fled the room many times, sometimes going to his room, or right out the door and towards the woods. But he was no fauntling, and this kind of behavior was uncalled for.

But finding out that he had  _kissed_  Thorin was simply too much, let alone at this time of morning. On top of that, everyone already knew how he felt! To think, they'd probably all been laughing behind his back at how foolish he was. Ori said that no one would mind, but he was far too polite as it was, and that had probably just been a stab at getting him to calm down. Bilbo shook his head, gut rolling. The cold was starting to really get to him by then, nipping at his exposed skin and making him shiver. Bilbo stopped at the Gamgee's front gate, breath clouding as he exhaled. Hamfast had known this entire time and hadn't said a word about it, other than that he would be embarrassed. Well, now he was, and by the Valar, he wanted to have a word with that wretched gardener!

Bell opened the door at Bilbo's knocking, her curly hair messy and her eyes wide in surprise. Bilbo realized that he must have looked awful, with his shoulders hunched in the cold and not even wearing a decent shirt. Her slight smile fell and was replaced with a frown.

"Oh, you must be freezing! Come along, inside you go!" She said quickly, sending an angry look towards Bag End as she closed the door. Bilbo shivered as the warm air washed over him, hands clenching where they were still shoved under his arms.

"What happened?" Bell asked. "Did they force you out? Oh, I ought to give those dwarves a piece of my mind! To think--"

"I ran out. On my own. Bell, might I sit down? I'm not feel quite well." Bilbo cut her off, his vision suddenly wavering and his stomach feeling as though it was going to rid itself of the tea he had earlier. Bell nodded quickly, guiding him into the kitchen and pulling out a chair. The Gamgees weren't wealthy, despite the prime spot their smial was in. In fact, many of those in Bilbo's standing might outright call them  _poor._ Then again, the last person who had said that to a gardener who did so much work for those in Hobbiton and his lovely family and gotten away with it had been Lobelia, but Bilbo had chased her right out of Bag End after that, so she didn't count. Hamfast and his family may not have had the most, or the best, but they were all good hobbits and even better friends and that's all that mattered to Bilbo.

"Bilbo dear, what happened?" Bell asked, eyebrows creased in worry. Bilbo put his head in his hands and shook, exhaling heavily.

"I messed things up, Bell. I mucked it all up." Bilbo groaned, fingers tangling in his hair. Bell frowned sympathetically, her hand going out to rub soothing circles on his back.

"I'll go fetch Hamfast, just wait." She rose and went off to get her husband, who Bilbo presumed was still asleep. Female hobbits were a different breed then their male counterparts, being able to do work that would take Bilbo a whole day in only hours. And the mothers' sleep patterns! Bilbo's respect for them only increased with every new tale he heard.

"Bilbo? Bell says something's happened, what is it?" Hamfast's worried, albeit tired voice brought his attention back to the present, and just why he was in this situation. He looked up sharply, giving his friend a fearsome look.

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd kissed him? Hamfast, he  _knows!_ He knew before I did!"

Realization dawned on Hamfast's face and he shared a look with Bell, who had a quizzical eyebrow raised. He swallowed and met Bilbo's eyes.

"Well, I um, I thought it'd be best."

"Best how?!" Bilbo exclaimed. "Thorin knew what I'd done, and he didn't say anything! He might as well have been laughing at me behind my back and thinking me a fool--"

"Now, hold on." Hamfast's face was no longer worried, so much as peeved. "Bilbo, you know as well as I do that he would never! Be rational,  _think_."

"I am thinking!" Bilbo cried, looking at Hamfast with a desperate, anxious look. "I know that he wouldn't, but people can change in different situations--"

"Would he change? Would he honestly change over something like this?"

"No! And that's what's getting to me." Bilbo said, shaking his head. "Thorin would never keep something like this from me unless he was embarrassed, or  _disgusted_ , and that makes it so much worse." Bilbo shook his head again and scrunched his eyes shut, trying to control his now erratic breathing. Bell came forward, rubbing his back again as she gave her husband a look that demanded to know the full situation.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bilbo groaned. "How did you even know?"

"Well, I'd gone to see if you were back yet, since it had gotten quite late." Hamfast explained, twiddling his thumbs. "You weren't, so I lit your front lantern and then as I was going back inside, you and and him came laughing up the path. I wanted to make sure you'd both be alright, so I watched, just to be sure."

"And then I kissed him?" Bilbo asked miserably, seeing it play out in his mind. Of course, he'd been quite drunk. Maybe it wasn't Thorin who was personally embarrassed, but he suspected that Bilbo would be if he found out. Well, he was quite right it seemed.

"No."

"No?"

"You both went up to the door," Hamfast continued. "Then there was this bit of talking and he grabbed your other hand, because he  _was_  holding one already, honestly Bilbo, and then he kissed you!"

"You mean  _I_  kissed him."

"No, he laid one right on you and you both laughed and went your own separate ways. I wouldn't lie to you, Bilbo, and that's the whole truth, swear by the Valar."

Bilbo was silent as he played Hamfast's explanation over and over again, the parts not fitting correctly or lining up with what he already knew. He began to shake his head again, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment.

"It doesn't make sense. He doesn't... he doesnt feel  _that_   _way."_

"Bilbo, how do you know whether or not he does?" Bell asked. "Has he ever told you?"

"Well, no." Bilbo said quietly. "But I'm a  _hobbit_. It's, it's sort of implied, isn't it?" 

"Nonsense!" Hamfast said. "Now, you remember that story your mum used to tell us, the one about that elf in Rivendell that fancied her? There's a fine example!"

"That was an  _elf_. They actually like those with no beards! I'll have you know that by dwarvish standards, I'm rather ugly!"

"Thorin's no normal dwarf though, is he..." Bell whispered, avoiding Bilbo's look. For as long as he could remember, both Bell and Hamfast had been his friends and he adored them, honestly. But this shrewd mumbling thing they started to do once they became a couple? No, Bilbo was alright without that, thank you very much.

Bilbo sat back in the chair, folding his hands in his lap. "What do I do?"

"Tell him."

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, Bilbo." Hamfast groaned. "I don't have much experience in this sort of trouble, but honestly!"

"I ran out of there!" Bilbo protested. "I fled my own home in a near fit of panic because I'm terrified of how I feel and the repercussions of it and, and him! I'm terrified of what he'll think!"

They were all silent for a few moments before Hamfast pulled out another chair and sat down beside Bilbo, putting a comforting hand on his friend's back.

"You know how you feel, don't you?"

"Yes." Bilbo answered, hesitant. He'd already shared that with someone today and look where it got him.

"I don't know much about Mister Thorin, but I think things will be alright if you just tell him. Remember, your mum always said to face your fears."

"You remembered more of her advice then I did." Bilbo replied softly, giving his friend a smile. Hamfast grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, practically beaming.

"The way I see it, you could do this two ways. Go back now--"

"With the way I acted? No. Next option."

Hamfast grinned, glad to see Bilbo's steadfast nature making a comeback. "Then wait till they're all off at work, go home, and wait for him. The rest of them will give you space, just watch." 

"That could work." Bilbo agreed, nodding. Hamfast squeezed his shoulder once more before rising from the chair and stretching.

"Well, I ought to get ready. The kids will be up and about in a few minutes, so I hope you're ready."

"Of course I am. I can handle a few fauntlings, no problem."

* * *

After forgetting just how loud and rowdy even the best behaved of hobbit children could be, and spending nearly half the morning being subjected to various ear piercing noises, Bilbo went home.

Bell had checked periodically, finally telling him that it was safe to go nearly two hours after he'd fled Bag End. Hamson and Halfred were sad to see him go, complaining that 'they hadn't had  _any_  time to spend at Mister Bilbo's house and the dwarves were hogging him'. He'd promised to have them over soon enough, and if they were good boys he'd make a surprise for them. That had one them over easily enough, and Bilbo had gone on his way.

The way the smial seemed almost deserted made Bilbo's stomach flip, and he forced himself not to think about whether or not he'd messed everything up. Bilbo shivered and realized that he hadn't fixed the fires like normal, hence the slight chill. As he began to tend to the one in the nearest hall, he heard one of the benches creak in the kitchen as a dwarf rose from it and Bilbo nearly cursed under his breath.

"We can all leave if you would like. None would hold it against you." Thorin's voice was painfully closed off, and Bilbo couldn't bring himself to look at him.

"I don't want that. Don't even suggest it." Bilbo told him, laying a few logs down as the fire began to grow. It warmed his hands as a chill descended upon the rest of his body and he stood up, knees clicking as his legs straightened. He stared into the orange flame and still did not look at Thorin.

"Ori told you then."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." Thorin began, and Bilbo could feel everything fall out from under him. "I was very drunk, and had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea until I was told about it either, and I would never try to embarrass you in such a way."

"It's okay." Bilbo managed to keep his voice steady, even as his chest ached and all resolve disappeared. "I was drunk too. Storming out wasn't very proper, but I was quite..."

"Caught off guard?"

"Yes." Bilbo finally looked up and met Thorin's eyes. The dwarf's expression was unreadable, puzzling Bilbo even further. Thorin had distinct expressions for what he was feeling, and Bilbo had learned to know them at a simple glance. But this, this blankness that was anything but had Bilbo searching for an answer elsewhere. Thorin's arms were crossed against his chest, the fabric of his tunic clenched tight in his fingers. He didn't have any weight shifted onto one leg, simply standing straight and unmoving. Overall, he was stiff, and Bilbo could feel his heart sink. The last time he had made Bilbo explain what was wrong, his posture had been lose and he close, not hard as stone and distant.

"Are you...upset? Over this?" Bilbo dared to ask, eyes shifting back to the floor.

"Why would I be upset?" Thorin questioned, now shifting as he focused on Bilbo even more. Bilbo could feel his face heat in embarrassment as he forced his mouth to work.

"Because it was me? And I'm, well, you know..."

"Male?"

"A hobbit." Bilbo dared another look at Thorin, but this time caught a flicker of something. The blank mask slipped for just a moment, and Thorin appeared raw, like he had been cut open and left out to die.

"It doesn't matter. We were both drunk, so let's just forget about it."

"Forget." Bilbo echoed, as the words ran miles around his head with no chance of sinking in and being followed. He nodded numbly, hands clasped in front of him. "Yes, of course."

* * *

It was several hours later when Bilbo remembered a saying his father used to quote frequently.

You remember what you want to forget and forget what you want to remember, he had said, over and over, murmuring it at the oddest of times, or more normally, when Bilbo missed his curfew. Hearing the beginning of the phrase had always steeled Bilbo for a dressing down, and now was no different.

He really was tremendously stupid. Bilbo mulled over he and Thorin's conversation for hours after, finding himself alone in Bag End when Thorin left to work at the smithy. He hadn't said his cursory goodbye like normal, and it drove a jagged, rusted knife deep into Bilbo's heart each time he remembered it. He didn't like having Thorin being so cold to him, especially after how close they had become. That dwarf could sulk all he liked, but when he became a near stranger with the face of one of Bilbo's closest friends and love, a line had to be drawn. In all honesty, Bilbo was tired of playing around. It was exhausting frankly, driving him madder with each passing day. Thorin could close off and decide to no longer be his friend, and Yavanna be damned, Bilbo would let him. From the way it looked, Thorin had no idea of how he felt, and if finding out about it tore them apart, then perhaps nothing was ever meant to be.

It was easier said than done in the end, Bilbo realized as he stayed home for lunch. He wanted to tell Thorin for the miniscule chance his affections were returned, but possibly losing him made it much more difficult to even  _think_  of how that encounter would go down, let alone take action. If their friendship ended, it really would've been the worst possible thing to happen. Thorin would leave the Shire as soon as possible, and any chance of the company remaining was so slim that Bilbo didn't even count it. Thorin was their leader, and where he went, so did they. Bilbo may have been named dwarf friend, and honorary family, but he was not a dwarf, and he never would be. He came second to every single one of them.

That thought stuck with him for a good part of the day, making his stomach churn at random and obliterating his appetite. He picked at a slice of bread that was left over from breakfast, taking bits from the soft inside and chewing without tasting. Oh, he could only imagine what his parents would be saying now. Bungo would be in a fit, demanding Thorin be banished from the Shire and Belladonna would  appear to be listening to her husband rant, without actually paying a single bit of attention to what he was actually babbling about as she tried to guide her son through this mess. Having them here would've made this a great deal easier.

Weariness took Bilbo over by the time afternoon tea rolled around, and the hobbit knew that he only had a little while until the dwarves returned. The notion of cooking dinner was as unappealing as it had ever been, and Bilbo could only bring himself to throw together sandwiches for them all. A headache had begun to plague him from the lack of eating and the stress of the day and the only possible fix it seemed, would to sleep it off.

The front door opened right as he settled down into bed, far quieter than usual. Guilt clawed at his gut to know that he had gotten the company caught in the middle of this, and if their near somber voices said anything, it was that they were sorry to be in that position as well.

A pair of footsteps came up the hall minutes later, and Bilbo used all his willpower not to hunch his shoulders and try to hide from them. Fíli and Kíli whispered something to each other as they hovered near the doorway, peeking in past the ajar door if Bilbo guessed correctly.

"Bilbo." Kíli called quietly, the door creaking as it opened more. "Bilbo, are you asleep?"

"He wouldn't be able to answer if he was." Fíli muttered, jabbing his brother's side if Kíli's curse in Khuzdul was any sign.

"Yeah, I know." Kíli grumbled, sighing. "I'm going to beat up Uncle."

"Not if Amad doesn't first." Fíli said sullenly, huffing a breath. "C'mon Kíli, let him sleep. No sense in letting Bombur eat our share." They both turned and left the doorway, and Bilbo let out a heavy sigh.

He never planned for it to turn out this way.

* * *

In the end, Bilbo did end up falling asleep. The eventual loudness and laughter of his friends was soothing to his anxiety riddled mind and allowed him to drift off into a light, fitful sleep. He dreamt in fragments, with each dream morphing into each other and being filled with the ugliest, most horrifying things his mind could conjure up. So really, it was more of a nightmare overall than any dream.

He was awoken by a knock on his door, immediately bringing him to consciousness with eyes blown open wide in panic and a shallow breath caught in his throat. Bilbo laid a hand over his heart and listened to its frantic beat for a moment before replying.

"Yes! Yes, I'm awake, come in."

The door opened hesitantly, and Bilbo braced himself as Thorin came into view. He looked almost sorry, eyes trained on the ground and Bilbo could only swallow heavily in his own guilt and self loathing.

"We saved you supper. It's on the table. Hungry?" Thorin asked as he looked up. Yes, Bilbo confirmed. Definitely sorry.

"A bit." Bilbo said softly, their eyes meeting. "What time is it?"

"Sometime after 11. Everyone else has gone to bed."

"Ah." Bilbo shifted and climbed from his bed, muscles tensing as he stretched with a yawn. "Are you going as well?"

"No." Thorin replied haltingly. "Seeing as you're awake, I was going to ask if you would like to have a review lesson for your Khuzdul. It's been some time since we last went over it."

A wave of relief swept over Bilbo at his offer, inexplicably happy that Thorin wasn't showing signs of regretting everything up to this point. If he was going to make an effort, then Bilbo would be sure to do the same.

"That sounds lovely. Of course, let's go right ahead." Bilbo's clothes were rumpled from sleep, as he had changed into an actual ensemble rather than a nightshirt simply tucked into his trousers. Thorin gave Bilbo what could be defined as a wary smile, and the hobbit returned it as they headed towards the kitchen. Already, paper, ink and a quill sat ready, as well as Bilbo's dinner.

"You're awfully prepared."

"I figured you would say yes." Thorin told him, his smile growing ever so slightly as they both took their seats. Thorin sat on the same bench as him, though there was a very respectable distance between them. Bilbo pulled his plate over and began to nibble at the sandwich, appetite returning. Thorin quickly brought him through the basics once more, just to gauge what had been forgotten.

Bilbo retained nearly all of what he had learned, and was able to carry a normal conversation quite easily. Bit by bit, they moved closer together until their legs touched under the table and each movement brought a brush of the arm. They settled into a comfortably close atmosphere that neither had experienced with each other since their blunder had been revealed, and Bilbo reveled in it. He was deeply and utterly disappointed not to have Thorin share his feelings, but by the Valar having him as a friend was just as good.

Thorin wrote his next phrase carefully, shielding Bilbo's eyes from the message. The quill scratched over the paper almost haltingly, as if Thorin was unsure of what he was writing. He sent a glance in the hobbit's direction before sliding the paper over, fingers curling as his hands clenched.

" _Mukhuh_   _nami_   _zu_..." Bilbo's voice trailed off as he processed the words, mumbling first in the native language, then the translation in Westron. His hand stilled on the paper at the end of one word, ink seeping slowly and forming a spot. Bilbo was frozen as he stared at the question, his breathing taking a shallow edge. He turned to Thorin with wide eyes, and immediately, the dwarf shook his head, taking the paper back.

"No, you misread it. It's actually--" Bilbo cut him off as he surged forward, lips meeting Thorin's in a soft kiss. Thorin was stiff in the embrace, unmoving beneath his touch and an instant, Bilbo pulled back, muttering apologies.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I thought...oh Valar have mercy, I'm sorry!" Bilbo rose to flee from the table but was halted as Thorin grabbed his wrist, yanking him back down onto the bench. He cupped the hobbit's face as he kissed him hungrily, holding Bilbo close as if he were some fabled gem. Bilbo whined at the assault, eyes closing as his hands moved to Thorin's neck and his face burned with how badly he was flushed. Thorin's tongue swiped across Bilbo's bottom lip and the hobbit opened his mouth easily, moaning as the kiss deepened. Thorin moved one arm to wrap around his back as he brought Bilbo down onto the bench, now seeming to tower over him. Bilbo scrambled to remember anything that he learned as a young hobbit, feeling very out of practice in this whole ordeal. He nipped and tugged at Thorin's bottom lip, head going fuzzy when the dwarf practically  _moaned_ , the sound reverberating from low in his throat. Bilbo tangled his fingers in Thorin's hair and pulled gently, just enough to break the kiss and give him a moment to breathe.

Thorin broke away easily, breathing heavy as he looked down at Bilbo, and Bilbo looked at him. They were both silent, the air still charged with tension as they tried to think of what to say.

Bilbo broke into a wide smile as he began to laugh, delighted at the bewildered look on Thorin's face.

"I'm sorry, but it's been nearly 15 years since I've had someone kiss me like this, and I frankly forgot everything I know." The confusion on Thorin's face eased and he smiled, shaking his head as he laid it down in the crook of Bilbo's neck. He waited until Bilbo's laughter had ceased before raising his head and looking at him again.

"What does this mean? For us?"

Bilbo moved one hand to brush away some of the hair from Thorin's face, taking in the soft expression he wore. "I don't know. Up until a few minutes ago, I thought that you hated me for what happened on Durin's Day."

"I would never  _hate_  you." Thorin told him, voice taking a raw edge. "You make me frustrated beyond belief, but hate? I would sooner die then let myself fall to that."

"You said that we should forget about it! I thought--"

"Bilbo, Ori had told me only days before what happened. I was still coming to terms with it myself, and when you ran out this morning, I thought the worst. The only thing I wish to forget was how foolish I was by not telling you earlier."

"No, hush." Bilbo said quietly, guiding Thorin down into a soft kiss. "We were both foolish, but it doesn't matter. We're here now."

"I love you." Thorin whispered against his mouth, ending the declaration with another kiss. "You are my One, Bilbo. Not being with you was near agony."

"So dramatic." Bilbo mumbled, smiling at him. "Hobbits don't have Ones, but I suppose I'll make an exception for you."

"Would you allow me to court you? I wish to do something properly, to abide by some tradition, lest my mother rise from her grave and kill me."

"She sounds wonderful." Bilbo laughed as he nodded. "Courting. Yes, I'd quite like that."

"Good. Very good." Thorin replied, then kissed Bilbo again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, i finally made it! this chapter was a serious pain to write, hence the long wait and i'm pleased to say that the next update should be much sooner. but as always, school sucks and takes up a lot of time and i'm sorry about that!
> 
> mukhuh nami zu? - may i kiss you? (just in case that wasn't clear lmao)


	17. Chapter 17

It was hard for Thorin to explain exactly what it felt like to be courting Bilbo.

It was as though a dream had come true, and it truly had. He was with his One now, and Bilbo felt the same! It was a cause for celebration, though Thorin expected that Bilbo would die from embarrassment if he tried to announce it in such a grand way. He'd been a near mess when they'd told the company, face going red at their joyful shouts and the massive group hug he was pulled into. He most certainly did not tear up apparently, though Thorin had seen differently.

On the other hand however, there was a sense of dread that came with their relationship. Thorin found himself already constantly worrying about each little thing he did, and how Bilbo would react. He fretted over what his first courting gift would be, whether he had to get a blessing from someone before continuing on, and just when the right time was to kiss him. In all honestly, Thorin would've preferred to never let him go and lavish him with love and attention the whole day.

And perhaps, he simply liked the way Bilbo's skin turned pink when he blushed from the contact.

The good feelings trumped the worries most of the time however, and Thorin found that everything was turning out quite alright. Bilbo and him were happy, the company was head over heels with the notion of them being together, and his family back home couldn't be happier. Even Dís, who loved to scrutinize and snoop through every aspect of an individual before making her judgement, wholeheartedly approved of Bilbo, with only a few simple letters to base it off of.

The whole situation filled him with such an inexplicable joy and feeling of wholeness that he wondered how he had ever lived without the hobbit as his.

* * *

Their routine continued as normal of course. They slept in separate bedrooms, Bilbo rose first every morning, and Thorin followed soon after. Things were as they had been, though now Thorin was allowed to touch him with as much adoration and devotion as he was able to pour into his hands without worrying about whether or not it was strictly  _friendly._  
The floors of Bag End were chilly, a testament to the temperature outside. The smial held a degree of warmth in the winter, really only becoming cold once the ground itself was. The walls were insulated as well, keeping the heat in and the home cozy. Of course, it took a few fires before the floors were warm as well, but they were all fine with having cold feet.

Thorin yawned as he walked into the kitchen where Bilbo sat at the table, sipping at a steaming cup of tea. He looked up when a floorboard creaked under the dwarf's weight, smiling as Thorin approached.

"Good morning." He greeted, hand reaching up to touch Thorin's arm when the dwarf came down to softly kiss him. It had been days since they shared their first (remembered) kiss, and though such open displays of affection seemed not to fit the rather uptight hobbit image, Bilbo didn't protest and Thorin was perfectly fine to continue on with it. Thorin had never thought himself to be a very tactile dwarf, but something about the hobbit left him craving another's touch like he never had before.

"Sleep well?" Bilbo asked, cheeks tinged pink as Thorin took a seat next to him. Thorin nodded, yawning as he settled down onto the bench.

"Indeed. And you?"

"Very well. Are you going to the smithy today?" Thorin put his hand on the table, palm up, and nodded again as Bilbo slid his hand into his and entwined their fingers.

"Yes. I'd like to get some things finished up. I'll be able to use it throughout the coming months, but I find it easier to get as much as possible done before taking a break." Thorin looked at Bilbo's knuckles and fingers, scuffed from the sword training that he had been subjected to over the past few days. It was much colder than Thorin had ever seen the Shire to be, but it didn't stop Bilbo. If anything, it only urged him forward, his focus strong.

Bilbo nodded. "Yes, I quite agree." He sipped at his tea and leaned against Thorin, head resting on his shoulder. Thorin kissed the top of his head and sighed contently.

"I should start breakfast."

"Make them do it."

"They're not even awake."

"No breakfast it is then." Bilbo snorted and laughed as his posture straightened and he looked at Thorin. He leaned in for a kiss, which the dwarf returned with pleasure.

"You get them all up, and I'll cook." Bilbo whispered as he pulled back, mouths only a smidge apart. Thorin rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

"Fine."

Breakfast progressed as it normally did, with 12 bleary dwarves sitting down to stuff themselves as full as they could manage. Bilbo had seemed to have mastered the art of making enough food to feed them all, as well as making the right kinds that filled them up quickly. Yawns turned to laughter and laughter to full blown dwarvish boisterousness in the short time it took them to devour the food in front of them, and Bilbo was soon shooing them all off to ready themselves. Thorin helped him carry the dishes over to the sink, set aside to soak and be washed later.

"Be sure to wear something thick, it's quite cold today." Bilbo advised, standing in the doorway of Thorin's room as the dwarf stood at the dresser, rifling through and looking for something to wear. Bilbo's eyes were dutifully trained on the ground, ignoring Thorin's lack of shirt as the dwarf searched. Thorin glanced over at him, mouth quirking up.

"You know, I don't care whether or not you look."

"I know you don't. But  _I_  do."

"Suit yourself." Thorin replied, repressing a chuckle. He took out a wool tunic of a grey brown color that while a bit uncomfortable at times, was undeniably warm and sure to suit Bilbo's request.

"Are you decent?"

"Does it matter?"

" _Thorin._ "

"Yes, you can look." Thorin watched in amusement as Bilbo looked up at him, lips pursed in a pout and color staining his cheeks. "It's rather foolish to get flustered."

"I am not flustered!" He protested. "And hobbits simply prefer to keep their clothes on, not parade around with nothing!"

"Shame, that." Thorin smiled as Bilbo spluttered, walking over so that they were standing nearly toe to toe. Bilbo mock glared at Thorin, arms crossed against his chest and face going pink.

"You're awful." He muttered, eyes closing when Thorin bent to kiss him. He pulled back first, one hand resting on Thorin's chest and the other hovering near his own hand. "You'd best be on your way."

"Must I?"

"Yes." Bilbo grinned at him and turned and left the room, dressing gown swishing behind him. Thorin was stuck for a moment, his expression what could be called dreamy and a smile on his face. He left the room soon after, the commotion of his company filling the front hall as they all put on their cloaks. The weather had grown very chilly as of late, and worry had led Bilbo to line all of their cloaks with wool and trim it with fur. Bilbo dutifully ignored any question about how much he spent on the materials, literally walking away once someone began to ask.

"I'll see you all back here for lunch, hm?" Bilbo said cheerfully. He wrapped his arms around himself as the door opened, a warm goodbye from the company battling the chilly wind that gusted inside.

Thorin stood outside on the doorstep, body blocking most of the wind from directly reaching him. His hands took Bilbo's, fingers gradually entwining.

"We'll be back soon. Do pay the weather no attention, and relax?" He asked, squeezing the hobbit's hands gently. Bilbo heaved a small sigh and nodded.

"Yes, yes of course." He replied flippantly, earning a hard look from Thorin. As much as Bilbo loved to take care of things, taking care of himself when in duress was not his strength. It worried Thorin how he would become once they got into the worst part of the winter, and just how much help Bilbo would need to get past it.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry." Bilbo told him again, voice soft. Thorin bent his head as Bilbo rose to the tips of his toes, one clasped hand separating. He laid it on the curve of Bilbo's back and kissed him gently, enjoying the moment between them.

" _Wooo_! Get it, Uncle!" Kíli's loud cry came from behind him and promptly ruined the kiss, as did the series of calls and laughter from the rest of the company. Bilbo pulled away quickly, cheeks turning red as he covered his mouth in embarrassment.

"Okay, goodbye!" Bilbo closed the door quickly, the lock clicking resoundingly as Thorin stared at the wood. He turned around slowly, eyes locking with Kíli, then Fíli. The rest of the company had taken the smart move and started off as soon as possible without it being deemed as running away, but then again, his nephews were not their companions.

"Fíli, Kíli?"

"Oh no." Kíli said, exchanging a look with his brother. Fíli swallowed heavily. They both knew that tone.

"When I say run, we run."

"Come  _here_ \--"

" _R_ _un_ _!_ "

* * *

Despite their poor choice of actions and fleeing after so, Fíli and Kíli stuck by Thorin for the rest of the day. The market wasn't empty, but there wasn't enough excitement in it to drag them out of Thorin's hair.

The lack of business wasn't surprising to Thorin, nor did it bother him. Nearly all the premade goods they came to the Shire with had been sold, and the number of commissions they'd received more than made up for what hadn't sold. What had been a simple trip to Erebor and a try at making a small profit had turned into something much larger,  _and_  left them with a quite substantial income.

"So, what are you making him?" Fíli asked, head propped up in his hands as he sat at one of the work tables. Thorin sat at the other side of it, head bent as he sketched on a piece of paper.

"I don't know yet."

"What do hobbits even give for courting gifts?" Kíli said, sliding up next to his brother and sitting. "I mean, I really can't see the whole weapon option happening, since you  _already did that_."

" _That_  was not a courting gift. He needed a sword so I made him one." Thorin bristled, hunching his shoulders. Fíli and Kíli gave him a dual look that made them look so much like Dís that Thorin almost flinched.

"Sure, because making that out of the best steel you had and naming him a dwarf-friend wasn't over the top."

"If you want to complain about me, go see your mother."

"She's in Ered Luin."

"Only three days away! Have a safe trip there."

"Oh, we're only joking!" Kíli insisted. "We just want to know what you're going to be making."

"I already told you, I don't know." Thorin sighed. "I haven't an idea about what they exchange, but I am fairly sure it's nothing like us."

"You could ask Mister Hamfast." Fíli suggested.

"Out of the question. I've been avoiding a talk with him in which I  _know_ he'll threaten to have my head if I so much as touch Bilbo." Thorin shook his head. "Overbearing bastard." He muttered sullenly.

"Devouring Bilbo in the doorway isn't exactly going to make that conversation be delayed." Fíli said, and grinned when his uncle glared at him.

"Be quiet or get out."

"Alright, fine."

The rest of the company were either in the receiving front room of the smithy sitting about, or had gone off to tend to some order of business. There wasn't much to do, and it would've been very simple for Thorin to have simply come alone, but Bilbo needed to have a bit of time without dwarves running amok and just  _breathe_. He wasn't high strung exactly, but Thorin could tell that he was overwhelmed with inner worries lately, and needed the time to think.

"Would Bilbo come to Ered Luin with us?" Fíli asked, the question seeming to strike from nowhere.

Thorin's hand slowed to a stop, the charcoal ending in a rich black streak. He stared down at the paper, looking at messy designs of items streaked with flowers, etched with books and every other element that made Thorin think of him. It was all meaningless scrap, and none would become a final design. He swallowed heavily.

"I don't know."

"Would you stay here with him then?" Kíli questioned, sharing a look with his brother. Thorin looked up at them and stared.

"Why does it matter?"

"Well, it doesn't." Fíli replied.

"You just get this sort of expression when you're looking at Bilbo, and it's just...almost awe. I mean, he gets the same way too, so were were sort of wondering..." Kíli continued, shrugging as he trailed off. They were all quiet for a moment before Thorin sighed.

"I honestly do not know. This isn't something I can just make a decision on myself, and...and I do not know what I would choose if that responsibility did fall completely on me. He and I have only been courting for a few days now, boys. This is--"

"But that doesn't really matter, does it?" Kíli cut in. He sighed. "We all know that you love him, and he clearly loves you too. It's not even infatuation or something, just plain old love. So, it wouldn't really matter whether or not you stayed or if he came with us. Why, you could've married him instead of asking to court him and we would've supported it."

"Well, Balin and Dori wouldn't have, but they would've come around." Fíli added, and the brothers both went silent as they looked at their uncle. Thorin was as quiet as them, digesting their words with a blank expression.

"You understand how important he is to me."

"Well, yes."

"Good, that's good." Thorin went back to sketching and Fíli and Kíli watched, all sitting in companionable silence. Time passed, and the noise from the front room bled out, leaving Thorin to believe that there was something more interesting than simply sitting around. He spoke after that, voice low.

"If he truly wanted it, I would stay here forever."

"But he's not like that, is he?" Fíli mused. "He needs a good adventure under his belt."

"And with dwarves." Kíli interjected. "I've had  _enough_  of elf related tales of his travels."

Thorin felt a deep smile grow on his face, his heart swelling with content. He always knew that Fíli and Kíli adored Bilbo, but seeing this blatant love they had for him was all he could ever ask for. Bilbo was as much family to them as he was.

Kíli tilted his head as he looked out the window on the far side of the wall, watching something. The room was warm from the fire Thorin had started in the forge and their cloaks were laid out nearby, fabric absorbing the heat for when they would have to wear them later.

"What are you doing?" Fíli asked quizzically as his brother stood up and silently went over to the window, pulling the sleeve of his tunic up over his hand and rubbing at the thick glass.

"It's snowing."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, come look."

Thorin was frozen as Fíli calmly left the table, moving to look out the window. He hadn't told them much of what Bilbo knew about this winter, other than that it would be a worse than previous years. Young and naive, they knew not of what fear the first snow would strike in Bilbo's heart, and in a flash, Thorin felt worry seize him, clutching his lungs and squeezing tight.

"Clean up here. I have to go back to Bag End." He ordered, rising from the table. How long had it even been snowing? Bilbo surely would've noticed, and the panic would've set in immediately.

"Wait, what's wrong?" Fíli asked. Thorin snatched up his cloak and left the room, coming out into the front of the building. He fastened his cloak with one hand as he opened the door with the other and with a gust of relief saw that while the ground was more than simply dusted upon, it wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared. Still though, the flakes came down thick and heavy, easily painting the Shire and erasing the freshness of nature with frost.

"Uncle--"

"Do as I say. You'll know why later." Thorin nearly snapped, pulling up his hood as he went out. There hadn't been any announcement by the Thain about what was to come, and oblivious fauntlings were already out in the snow, tiny hands covered with gloves and bare feet sunk into the white flakes without a care. It wasn't bitterly cold, but it was enough. Bilbo would most likely have some plan in place, and they could accomplish it with ease.

The walk up to Bag End seemed to drag on, though Thorin knew it was from his impatience. When the snow powdered smial came into sight the chimney was puffing out smoke, dark grey drifting up and mingling with white. Thorin trudged up to the door and pushed it open, flipping his hood down as he kicked the snow from his boots on the doorstep.

"Bilbo?" He called, not bothering to take off his boots. The sound of something falling came from the direction of his study, but there was no reply. Thorin went off for the room, wet footprints trailing behind him.

Bilbo was oblivious to his surroundings, too busy digging through piles of paper and books, searching for something. A collection of books, previously stacked, lay scattered on the floor and discarded in the hobbit's frenzy.

"Bilbo!" He looked up sharply at the sound of his name and Thorin could see the panic painted on his features. He had changed from his nightshirt into actual clothes in the few hours that they had been gone, but his shirt was rumpled and the cuffs unbuttoned, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows.

"Thorin, oh by the Valar, we weren't supposed to be getting storms this early, the snow wasn't due for another week at least!" He raised his hands to his head and tugged at his hair, frustration and anxiety evident. "I-I have things that I wrote, papers with instructions and recommendations and I  _cannot find them_! I need to get to the Thain soon and talk to him and--"

"Bilbo, calm down." Thorin grabbed him by his arms and held him fast, eyes locking onto his. Bilbo was nearly shaking in his grip and Thorin couldn't help but pull him in and hug him tightly. Bilbo's arms curled around him, gripping his cloak like a lifeline.

"You won't find anything if you're in a panic." Thorin told him calmly, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Bilbo relaxed against him and Thorin could feel his heart pounding, the beat frantic. "I'm here to help, just tell me what you need."

Bilbo breathed in deeply as he broke away, rubbing his hands over his face. "There's a large envelope, and it has a bunch of papers inside. It's all possible plans, and announcements and figures and such, and I  _nee_ _d_ it."

Thorin nodded. "Alright. Large envelope, figures inside."

Bilbo nodded shortly and sighed as he went back to searching, rifling through papers and checking under the covers of various books, as though he had stuffed it inside for safe keeping. Thorin began to look too, piling items to the side and looking through bookcases with fervor.

He looked over at Bilbo's desk and went over, lifting up the top and looking inside. There were a few worn documents inside, the yellowing paper speaking its age. Thorin glanced over at Bilbo, and seeing that his back was turned, decided to look. There were a bundle of letters, with writing on the front that was distinctly Elvish. He pushed them aside and wondered if they were from those elves in Rivendell that Bilbo had told stories of, or if they were of his own creation, written with purpose yet never sent. Another paper made out of a thick stock showed a portrait, but only one face he could recognize. 

It showed a young Bilbo, no more than a mere fauntling, beaming alongside two elves. Thorin wanted to call them young, but aging in elves was so delayed that he had no idea what to call them. Both had long, dark hair, and looked as equally delighted as Bilbo did. There were several books on the ground between them, lying open and displaying pages with minuscule lines. The picture was so detailed that Thorin couldn't help hut feel as though he had stepped into the scene and intruded. He tore his eyes from it it more shuffling brought forward an envelope that when opened, showed the sheet of goods that he had helped Bilbo calculate only a short while ago. Thorin pulled out the envelope and closed the desk quietly.

"Bilbo, I found it!" The hobbit, who had been leafing through his bookcase again broke into a quick, relieved grin and came forward to grab it.

"Oh, bless you. Where was it?"

"In--"

"No, we haven't the time for that. I must see the Thain at once, come on." Bilbo hurriedly began to unroll his cuffs as he left the room, leaving Thorin to chase after him. Bilbo was up at the door before they were even buttoned and Thorin had to grab his arm to prevent him from running right out the door.

"It's freezing out there, you need a coat."

"Thorin--"

"Don't say there's no time." He snapped. Bilbo's eyes widened, not expecting the sharp rebuff. Thorin sighed and moved his hand from Bilbo's arm to cup his face. "You'll catch something if you go out without a coat, and I won't have you falling ill when you're needed the most. I'm here to help Bilbo, tell me what you need."

Bilbo nodded, leaning into his touch. "We need to go to the Great Smials in Tuckborough. It's nearly 14 miles away, so we'll need perhaps a small cart, though--"

"We have ponies in the stable." Thorin told him firmly. "Dress warmly, and I'll go get mine." Thorin kissed him quickly and went off once more, grimacing when the icy wind hit his face.

He flipped up his hood and walked down Bagshot Row quickly, the snow crunching beneath his boots. It had continued to snow while he had been with Bilbo, and nearly an inch covered the ground now. The sky was painted grey and white and a foreboding sense of dread sat heavily in Thorin's stomach.

He wondered why Bilbo had stashed away those relics of his time spent with the elves. He already knew that Bilbo's mother had been friends with Gandalf, then Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and that Bilbo had spent various bits of his early childhood in the realm, so why would he hide that in his desk? Did he think that seeing any of it would somehow offend them? Thorin had heard stories of elves from his father and grandfather and as such, had no particular like for them, but he did not expect Bilbo to be the same. He would have to ask him about it later.

The stable was void of any presence minus the company's ponies when Thorin arrived, and he suppressed a groan. Every other time he had come by to pay for their care or simply check on them the stable boy had been there, and now, when he was actually  _needed_ , he wasn't! Thorin looked around before going over to his pony and stroking her nose.

"Hello, girl. Time you went for another ride, hm?" As he unlatched her stall, Thorin looked around and spotted the bridle, then grabbed it. As he bridled his pony as quickly as possible, he heard footsteps behind him and looked over.

"Oh, Balin." Thorin looked back to his pony, petting her nose as he buckled the straps. Balin was silent for a moment.

"Why are you here?"

"Bilbo and I are headed to see the Thain, and we needed a pony. I have a pony, hence my being here."

"About the snow? It's barely a dusting."

"If it has Bilbo worried, then it's enough. He's being cautious, and I aim to let him do whatever he needs to do to feel safe." Thorin replied sharply, bristling at the was Balin seemed to brush away what he knew was a serious topic for Bilbo. Balin raised his hands in a submissive gesture.

"Easy, Thorin. I meant no harm."

"You don't understand Balin. This has happened to him once before, and he lost some that were important to him. I shan't allow it to happen once more." Thorin grabbed the saddle pad and put it on his pony, petting her neck as he did. Balin was quiet for a moment.

"Not everything can be in your control, Thorin. You need to have a level head if you're going to stand by him through this, and just know, that things might happen where you could do nothing to prevent it."

"I can try." He bit out, settling the saddle on the pony. "Is that all?"

"Seeing as the stable boy isn't here, I have no reason to stay. Don't be upset with me for telling you the truth though."

"I'm not upset." Thorin secured the saddle and paused with his hand gripping the pommel. "I'm worried for him. Is there something wrong with that?"

"By Mahal, no." Balin sighed. "Just...do not be hasty. Think things through. You know that I only ever want to best for you, and him."

"The best you may want, but the best is not always right." Thorin petted his pony once more before leading her out of the stable, not looking at Balin. Bilbo was coming up to the stable as Thorin stepped outside and the dwarf sighed in relief. Bilbo had indeed bundled himself up, wearing a long, thick coat, a scarf and gloves. Still no shoes though, which Thorin  _kne_ _w_  that he was going to have to come to terms with soon.  He came to stand next to Thorin and looked at the pony warily.

"I um, I don't really remember how to ride a pony."

"That's fine, because I do." Thorin grabbed Bilbo before he could protest and heaved him up onto the saddle, resisting the urge to laugh at the little peep of offended noise he made. Thorin grabbed the pommel and hoisted himself on behind Bilbo, smiling when Bilbo turned his head to look at him.

"You know, a warning would've been nice."

"Nonsense, you're fine. Now, which way to Tuckborough?"

"That way. I'll tell you where to go."

Thorin nodded and grabbed the reins, then began to urge his pony forward. The road was void of anyone else, so he led her right into a canter. The sudden movement startled Bilbo, and he pet out a little shriek and reached wildly for Thorin's hand.

"I won't let you fall." Thorin assured him, no longer able to resist the urge to smile. He pulled Bilbo back so that he was right up against him, and put his arms tightly around the hobbit's waist. Bilbo swallowed audibly, his unrest evident.

"You're alright. Just relax." Thorin soothed, and gradually Bilbo did relax, sinking back against Thorin with an uneasy sigh.

"W-What's your pony's name?" He asked. Thorin debated whether or not he should say it, at the risk of being laughed at, but decided that Bilbo probably needed a refresher from this situation.

"Minty."

"Minty. Honestly."

"Yes." Thorin heard Bilbo let out a little snort, then watched as he turned to look at him with a smile. His nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold, and Thorin smiled back.

"You're ridiculous."

"You never let me forget it."

* * *

The Great Smials of Tuckborough were as the name said, great in their size. Thorin was a bit astounded by how many lived in this one building, but there was certainly enough room for them all. It was Bilbo's aunt Donnamira who came to the door, tsking at them standing in the cold.

"Bilbo! Oh heavens, it's chilly! In you go, come along." She hurried them in and closed the door with a shiver. Thorin and Bilbo had left Minty in the small stable nearby, then walked the rest of the way. Though the Shire didn't do much outside commerce, there was business with Men occasionally and it was often utilized due to its proximity to the Thain's residence.

"Hello, Aunt Donnamira. Yes, yes, I missed you too." Thorin watched in amusement as she fussed over Bilbo, kissing his cheeks and swiping snow from his hair. "I need to see Grandfather, if you please!"

"Oh yes, in time dear. Come now, both of you." Thorin watched Bilbo grind his teeth as they were dragged off into the nearest kitchen. Donnamira fussed over the both of them, setting water out to boil and pushing forward a plate of scones for them to nibble on.

"Eat up, the both of you. You especially Mister Thorin, I can see cheekbones! I'll go fetch him for you two, be back in a bit." Donnamira bustled out of the kitchen and Bilbo put his head down on the table.

"How does she know my name?" Thorin asked as he unclasped his cloak. Bilbo let out a groan.

"You honestly think that everyone in the Shire doesn't know the company's names by now? They're Tooks as well, so no doubt they've been spreading gossip and rumors." He told him, sounding disgruntled.

"You made this side of your family sound like the more pleasant bunch." Thorin replied mildly. Bilbo began to unbutton and take off his coat.

"The Bagginses aren't fond of other races, so you're more likely to get some snide remarks hidden under a veil of concern and me ending up telling one of them off." He shrugged. "Tooks are just more accepting."

"Wonderful thing, that." Thorin muttered as Donnamira and the Thain entered. The Old Took looked worse for wear than he did the last time Thorin had seen him, his back seeming more bent and his eyes showing the years they had seen. Quite frankly, he very much looked his age.

"Bilbo, hello my lad!" Gerontius greeted, giving him a smile. He nodded at Thorin. "Master Thorin."

"Master Took. Pleasure to see you again."

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine, though I wish it wasn't under the circumstances I believe it to be." He looked over at his daughter and touched her arm. "Donnamira dear, would you mind making me a cup of tea? Put some of those herbs in for me."

"Of course. Would you two like anything?"

"Just tea, please." Bilbo said distractedly as he took out his envelope from where he'd hidden it in his coat and began to open it.

"And you, Mister Thorin?"

"Ah, nothing for me. Thank you." He replied, shifting in the seat. It was a bit surreal to be known by people he had never met, especially Bilbo's family. He would've quite liked to make his own introductions, but it seemed that it was out of his control.

"We are still waiting on the shipment of coal, but that order was put out later than the rest so it's understandable." Bilbo began, sliding the sheet of costs that they had worked on over to Gerontius. He took and read as Bilbo continued to talk.

"I drafted a possible announcement that we can put out all over the Shire, but we need to call a meeting for it. We can't rely on hobbits gossiping about it, as we're more likely to find them concerned with Yule than the snow. Many aren't going to like everything about it, but it'll keep them safe."

"Everyone here is a fickle bunch, you'll never get them all to agree on one thing." Gerontius replied. "What plans do we have?"

"I think that all grown hobbits, and perhaps a few of the teens as well should have some type of offensive training. We don't have swords, but I know well enough that there's enough scythes and sickles to go around."

"How are we going to train hobbits exactly?" Gerontius asked. "Bilbo, you know as well as I do that anything like fighting hasn't been done since the Battle of Greenfields, and that was well over 150 years ago. Our race has gone soft since then."

"Oh no we haven't!" Bilbo declared, sitting upright in his seat. "I remember perfectly well how hobbits reacted when the wolves crossed over. We have  _not_  gone soft, everyone is just lacking the reason to do anything. Once we tell them what's coming and what's going to happen, things will change. If our word isn't enough, experiences from that winter will start going around again and that'll be it. Hobbits enjoy the comforts of life, and they'll do whatever they need to if they get to keep it that way." Bilbo crossed his arms and sighed heavily, glancing at Thorin. He swallowed, and realized that his One would be a terrifying adversary in a debate.

Gerontius broke into a wry grin. "That's his mother showing through." He said to Thorin, smiling merrily when Bilbo made a protesting noise. "Always so feisty, that one. It'll do us good here."

"I'm quite sure it will." He agreed, sneaking a look at Bilbo. He smiled slightly at his comment and Thorin felt the same expression pull at his face. He turned to Gerontius. "I don't know if this is very much my place, but I would like to volunteer my services, as well as my company's. We are all skilled in combat and training, and I believe it would be of great use."

Gerontius nodded thoughtfully, smiling when Donnamira brought him his tea. "We'd be much obliged if you would do such a thing, Master Thorin."

"Ah, just Thorin is fine." He said, mumbling a thank you as he received his cup as well. "It really is the least any of us can do. We have been treated better her than in any other place I have traveled to and to lend our services for such a cause is only a fraction of payment for the debt we owe. I would much rather risk my own injury in any possible fight then hiding like some coward and allowing such kindly folk as you hobbits to become the prey of some beast."

Bilbo and Thorin had been sitting close before, and now beneath the table, he could feel Bilbo grasping for his hand. Their fingers intertwined, and Bilbo squeezed hard in obvious appreciation for his vow.

"And it is your kindness we shall make good use of. My thanks." Gerontius said, and he reached out with an age gnarled hand. Thorin took it and gave him a firm handshake, a sense of rightness filling him. He could see Bilbo smile from the corner of his eye, and found breathing to be easier now than it had throughout the meeting so far. They had this under control. Things would be fine. 

* * *

The statement Bilbo had drafted to be put out in three days at a large meeting was gone over and edited for the rest of the time, becoming strong, finalized and ready to be said. They secured a few possible plans and ways in which supplies could be distributed, then drew it to a close.

Bilbo shrugged on his still slightly damp coat as they prepared to leave. Gerontius held himself steady with his cane, watching his spry grandson and feeling age sit deep in his bones.

"I need to speak to your grandfather about something." Thorin said quietly in Bilbo's ear. "You may head for the stable if you wish and I'll be there shortly, or just wait."

"I'll wait." Bilbo replied. "Much rather trudge through snow with you at my side."

Thorin gave him a quick smile before turning to Gerontius. "Excuse me, but might I have a word with you? It's important."

"Of course." He agreed easily, looking past Thorin and glancing at Bilbo. He led Thorin back down the hall and out of both the visual and hearing range of Bilbo before stopping. Thorin swallowed and searched for the words that seemed to fail him before speaking.

"Master Took, I--"

"Oh, none of that Master Took stuff." He interrupted, waving his hand. "Gerontius is fine, add a Master or Mister or whatever you please if you must."

Thorin nodded and began again. "Master Gerontius, I...I would like to inform you that Bilbo and I--"

"Sorry, what was that? Blasted ears, can't always rely on them eh?" He cut Thorin off again, giving the dwarf a sorry smile. Thorin found himself groaning and hurried to finish his statement before he could be cut short again.

"Bilbo and I have entered a courtship and l wish to have your blessing!"

"My blessing? Why would you want that?"

Thorin stopped, not having expected that for an answer. He stuttered to a halt, searching for an explanation. "Well, you're one of the closest family members he seems to actually  _like_ , and...it didn't feel right to not inform you, nor ask for your support."

"Pah, it doesn't matter." He told Thorin dismissively. "Bilbo's grown, and he would never enter something like a courtship unless he was absolutely sure. As long as you are honest in your intents, I have nothing to not approve of."

"I would never be anything but honest--" Thorin began, but stopped when Gerontius laughed.

"Oh, I know that. You don't have a bad bone in your body from what I can see, and I don't have a single problem with you. Why, you're much better than some of those lads I caught Bilbo kissing back when he was younger. And besides," he said with a wry grin. "I saw this coming  _ages_  ago. The way you two looked at each other at the Harvest Festival! How you two look so long to see it, I don't understand."

Thorin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "To be correct, I--"

"Yes, yes, you have my blessing. Bilbo's a mean little thing once you get him riled up though, so even if I had said no, it wouldn't have mattered. Just treat him right, you hear?"

"I swear on my life that I will do everything in my power to do so." Thorin agreed, face breaking out into a smile when Gerontius laughed again.

"Good, good. Off you go then, that snow's coming down hard and won't be much fun to get stuck in."

"Yes, of course. Goodbye, and thank you."

Thorin walked back down the hall to Bilbo with a sense of contentment and complete joy filling his heart. The hobbit was waiting as he had said and gave Thorin an odd look.

"My, don't you look pleased!"

"Your grandfather is more fond of me than whatever hobbits you were kissing as a youngster, so I do believe I have every reason to be." Thorin told him, his smile growing when Bilbo laughed and shook his head.

"Yes well, I've gotten better at choosing who to moon over as I grew." He replied, waiting as Thorin flipped up the hood of his cloak. Bilbo reached for Thorin's hand and the dwarf took it gladly, then they went out the door and into the snow once again.

* * *

Oddly enough, Thorin could not sleep that night. Perhaps it was Bilbo's worries rubbing off on him, but the whiteness the covered the corners of his window was enough to keep him from drifting off and leave him to stare at the ceiling in the dark.

Such an unfortunate time it was to enter a courtship. Bilbo was frazzled beyond all belief and it was obvious that his happiness was being stunted each time he lapsed back into thinking about the impending winter. Bilbo was no dwarf either, and as such, Thorin had no idea what to make for courting gifts. Dwarvish and hobbit traditions were obviously different, and Thorin knew next to nothing about the latter. He wanted to talk to Bilbo about it, but  _when_? There wasn't exactly a right time for it when the gift receiver was worried about other matters. 

Thorin rolled over and was prepared to squeeze his eyes shut and force himself to sleep when a quiet knock came to his door. It was so quiet that he almost didn't hear it, but the shuffle of feet assured him that he had. He threw back the covers and rose from the bed, going over to the door and opening it.

"Bilbo. What's wrong?" Thorin looked at his One and saw him to be shaken by some unknown thing, looking positively vulnerable with his nightshirt and sleep ruffled hair. Bilbo opened his mouth to talk, but words seemed to fail him for a moment.

"Oh, this is just silly." He finally sighed. "I'm sorry for waking you, just--"

"What's wrong?" Thorin asked again, gently cutting him off. Bilbo shook his head and rubbed at his face.

"I had this awful, horrible dream. It was more a nightmare but you were all in it and right now I'm more than terrified and I just needed to see you, and that sounds rather stupid but--"

Bilbo stopped as Thorin pulled him in close, his arms wrapping around him and hugging tightly. Bilbo let out a shuddering breath as he put his arms around Thorin's waist, hands splayed as he tried to touch as much of him as possible.

"Can I sleep with you?" Bilbo whispered. "It sounds so childish but I very much don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course." Thorin replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Dwarvish courting traditions were relatively loose when compared to ones like those Men followed, but even so, sleeping in the same bed as the other individual was still prohibited until after the second gift had been exchanged. However, Thorin reasoned that he didn't particularly care about traditions in this moment, and refusing Bilbo such a simple thing was downright cruel. He would rather receive a lecture from Dori or Balin about traditions tomorrow than let Bilbo suffer alone.

They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, as if Mahal had forged Bilbo as well as Thorin. They laid in the bed together, Bilbo's head nestled in the crook of Thorin's neck, Thorin's arms wound protectively around him and their legs tangled together. Bilbo was obviously still uneasy, so Thorin said the first thing that came to mind.

"What are hobbit courting traditions like?"

Bilbo moved his head to look at Thorin curiously, his features hard to see in the dim moonlight. "Flowery. Why are you asking?"

"I was curious." He replied. "Do you give gifts?"

"Yes." Bilbo said. "Ladies usually give their intended something baked, while males tend to give them flowers. It's nothing big, just heartfelt."

"Is kissing you considered scandalous?" Thorin asked curiously. He could feel Bilbo smile against his neck as he nodded.

"Yes. A little peck on the cheek is the norm here, so you swooping right in is a bit..."

"Promiscuous?"

"Yes." Bilbo grinned and moved his head to look at Thorin again. "What about dwarves? You didn't seem worried about being seen as depraved."

"My race is much more open with affection." Thorin told him. "It's considered rather odd if a couple doesn't kiss often in public, as the action is used to show possession and love for each other. The only thing that is frowned upon is sharing a bed before the second courting gift has been given. It is said that it encourages a courtship that progresses too quickly."

"Well then, aren't we quite an immoral pair!" Bilbo laughed quietly, grinning as he placed his head back into the crook of Thorin's neck. Thorin smiled, beyond pleased to see him happy once more. "You said second courting gift. Is that how many there is in all?"

"There are three major ones, but many couples exchange smaller ones in between as well." Thorin explained. "I had been meaning to talk to you about it. I would be fine following your traditions, but if you prefer mine I shan't mind."

"Mm, I quite like how dwarvish ones sound." Bilbo replied, yawning at the end of his sentence. "What are the three major gifts exactly?"

"The first gift it usually a weapon of sorts, to show the intent to protect. Seeing as I've given you a sword already, I can't exactly repeat the action."

"You could regift it. Pull it out from behind your back and I'll act surprised."

"Nonsense, that'd be silly." Thorin said in distaste. "Continuing on, the second gift is a bead. At this time, it is usually decided whether or not the courtship will continue. If the bead is accepted, then it is a yes."

"And the third?" Bilbo's words were becoming slurred with tiredness, his eyelashes fluttering against Thorin's skin as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"There is no set gift." Thorin whispered, pressing a kiss into Bilbo's curls.  "This is the point at which it is no longer a courtship, but an engagement. Accepting this gift is the equivalent of accepting a marriage proposal. A bead of betrothal is worn until the marriage beads are put in."

Thorin was silent as he listened to Bilbo breathe, the hobbit now fully asleep. Something about the warmth of his body and the way it fit with his own perfectly was like a sedative to Thorin, making his eyelids grow heavy and his mind fuzzy. He pulled the blankets up to Bilbo's chin and settled down into the bed, eyes closing as sleep soon took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so delighted to be getting into this serious stuff you gave no idea
> 
> for the courting customs, i kind of played around with what's widely used in fanon and then added my own stuff here and there, so if you've never really seen something be used before, i probably made it up
> 
> aLSO SCHOOL IS AWFUL I'M QUITTING


	18. Chapter 18

While courting customs and traditions were taken very seriously in the Shire, and those who did not abide by them often became the preferred subject for the town gossips, Bilbo was perfectly fine disregarding certain parts of it, just as Thorin was with his own. Bilbo had waited quite a long time after all, and he'd be dammed if someone was going to try and tell him that he, a full grown hobbit, was not allowed to kiss his intended! After all, it wasn't as though they were some lust driven youngsters who couldn't control themselves. Bilbo was  _very_  much in control, thank you very much!

So in control was he that most mornings, he could get out of bed without falling prey to the warm embrace of Thorin.

Today was not one of those mornings, however.

Bilbo woke to a dark room where the fire had burned down to nearly nothing and the air bit his nose with the chill. He blinked blearily, eyes adjusting to the slight light in the room. His back was warm from where it was pressed up against Thorin's front, one of the dwarf's arms thrown over his waist. It was incredibly intimate, and Bilbo enjoyed it as such.

He snuggled down into the warm blankets, smiling slightly as he closed his eyes again. Thorin made a snuffling noise behind him, obviously still asleep. Bilbo turned beneath his arm gently, and was careful not to jostle him too much as he opened his eyes again. Such a sight to behold, Thorin so deeply asleep. His hair was an askew mess, with some splayed over his face and bits hanging precariously close to his mouth. Honestly, Bilbo couldn't see the point of long hair if it was always so messy!

He moved one hand out from under the blankets to smooth the hair away from Thorin's face, fingers brushing his forehead and temple as he neatened it. Thorin's eyes opened slightly, two slivers of crystal blue staring out at Bilbo.

"G'mornin'." He mumbled, eyes closing again as he tightened his hold and pulled Bilbo closer. Bilbo smiled and traced his cheekbone with his thumb, finger brushing against the fine hairs there.

"Good morning." He replied in a whisper, smiling wider when Thorin opened his eyes and looked at him again. It was the quiet mornings in bed when Bilbo felt most at ease, his mind taken off from the troubles outside his bedroom and instead focused on his intended who lay beside him. Bilbo didn't have to be conscious of the snow outside or the day's activities as they all rushed to plan and do as much as possible. Thorin kept him grounded, even if just for a little while.

Thorin moved to kiss Bilbo, their noses bumping due to their half awake state before their lips met. Bilbo made a soft noise as his hand splayed out on Thorin's cheek and jaw, the coarse hair of his beard tickling his fingers and making him smile. Even half asleep, Thorin was excellent at kissing and it warmed Bilbo from his lips to his feet, making his toes involuntary curl where they were pressed up against the dwarf's leg. Thorin groaned low in his throat, with such an unabashedly desperate edge to it that Bilbo's head went fuzzy and it was through sheer willpower that he didn't jump the dwarf where he lay. 

"None of that." Bilbo whispered against his mouth, trying not to sound as disappointed as he really felt. Waking up beside Thorin had left them both with a certain type of affliction some mornings, and Bilbo was finding it increasingly hard to ignore it. By the Valar, they were both grown and had  _rights_  to such activities, no matter that status of their courtship! But, hobbits loved to speculate, and Bilbo was quite fine with not having to listen to rumors fly about in regards to he and Thorin's promiscuity just yet.

Thorin muttered a curse beneath his breath. "Why must you torture me so?"

"If I had it my way, this would not be happening." Bilbo told him, pressing a kiss to his lips before beginning to wiggle out of Thorin's grasp. "Get up now, don't be lazy. We all have a busy day ahead of us."

Thorin scowled and watched as Bilbo pushed back the blankets from himself and stretched. He shivered a bit as he reached for the match and candle on the bedside table and lit it, the small flame lighting his face. "It would do you some good to take a break. You've been going nonstop for nearly two weeks."

"And those two weeks were well spent." Bilbo told him, bringing the candle closer to Thorin's face in an attempt to wake him up more. "I don't do it without reason."

"Reason you may have, but it will be for nothing if you're too exhausted to actually do anything." The dwarf snipped, frown firmly in place. Bilbo sighed.

"Look, I know that you're worried. But I have it under control! I sleep--"

"I drag you to bed."

"I eat--"

"You've gone without meals!"

"I am perfectly fine!" Bilbo snapped. He shook his head. "It's far too early for this. Thorin, I am doing what I must do and I won't stop. You complaining isn't making it any easier."

"I am not complaining." He insisted, sitting up in bed. The blankets pooled around his waist and showcased his messy hair. "I am voicing my concerns."

"Complaining." Bilbo corrected. "Now enough. I hate worrying you, but giving me a lecture when the sun has yet to rise will do you no good. I do nothing on purpose."

"I know that." Thorin muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, but I won't stop worrying. Not until this is over."

"Fret as you wish, but I won't stop getting worked up when you don't quit. Now, come on," Bilbo said, his voice softening. "You have perhaps 10 more minutes before someone wakes up and you're no longer allowed to try to kiss the very life out me."

"You sound like Kíli." Thorin told him with a grimace. Bilbo scoffed.

"Please, he'd have said something far more lewd." Bilbo shook his head again. "I'll be in the kitchen."

He left Thorin to stew in his own grievances for a while longer and made his way to the kitchen, shivering as he did. He should've grabbed his dressing gown, but that would've given Thorin the time to think up something sappy and he would've ended right back in bed. A bit of a chill was an equal trade.

He began to rekindle the flame in the fireplace nearest to the kitchen, looking at the black of the ash and coals that held a scare trace of orange yet. The coal shipment had arrived the day of the announcement, only a short while before Bilbo was set to help the Thain explain their situation to what was nearly half the Shire. Of the company, only Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin and Thorin were there, the rest having promised to get the unloading and payment of the coal shipment sorted out for him. He was unbelievably grateful for their help, having a bit of time to get what he wished to say sorted out.

_Bilbo_ _wrung his hands as he looked at the crowd of hobbits who had squeezed into the Great Hall, all sitting_ _elbow_ _to elbow and chattering pleasantly. He despised the_ _notion_ _of having to deliver bad news, and while he knew that none of this was his fault, it_ _didn't_ _make it any easier to tell everyone that if they_ _weren't_ _careful this winter, they might not make it._

_Thorin grabbed Bilbo's hand when it came free of the fretful gesture and held steadily, catching the_ _hobbit's_ _eye and drawing his attention. "_ _You'll_ _be alright._ _We're_ _here."_

_Bilbo looked down at the table they were sitting at, its only occupants being him and the dwarves. The table on the other side of the podium sat the_ _Thain_ _,_ _Donnamira_ _, The Mayor of Michel Delving, Hugo_ _Twofoot_ _, and the Master of_ _Buckland_ _,_ _Gorbadoc_   _Brandybuck_ _. The_ _Thain_ _had spoken to most of them around the same time he had Bilbo_ _originally_ _, but most of the planning had been done with him only, as all of them agreed that his craftiness would serve them good._

_"_ _There's_ _so many hobbits. How am I supposed to tell them?!" Bilbo hissed, squeezing the_ _dwarf's_ _hand_ _worriedly_ _. Thorin looked at him_ _sympathetically_ _as he ran his thumb over Bilbo's knuckles._

_"Saying that_ _you're_ _capable of telling them would not help, so I can only say that someone will step in if you cannot continue. If none of the hobbits will, I shall._ _You've_   _told_ _me most of what you plan on saying as it is."_

_"_ _Fíli_ _and I will go up too._ _You'll_ _be fine, Bilbo."_ _Kíli_ _chirped, smiling at him encouragingly._ _Fíli's_ _expression mimicked his brother's and it stoked the_ _hobbit's_ _spirits, even if just by a bit._

_The hall went quiet as Hugo stepped up to the_ _podium_ _, clearing his throat loudly. Bilbo's heart skipped a beat, the anticipation of what was to come weighing down on him._

_"This meeting has been called in regards to a situation that looms in the near future. The_ _Thain_ _and Mister Bilbo_ _Baggins_ _will both be in charge here today, and will speak about the matter. And no chatter please."_ _Hugo_ _gave the crowd a shrewd look. "_ _Remember_ _the manners your mothers taught you."_

_There was a small_ _smatter_ _of laughter as Hugo sat down, and the hobbit looked rather self_ _satisfied_ _._

_"_ _He's_ _rather self-_ _confident_ _, isn't he." Thorin muttered,_ _glancing_ _at_ _the_ _hobbit who seemed to be a bit too glad over getting a_ _reaction_ _from his jibe._

_"_ _I've_ _only met the_ _fellow_ _three or four_ _times_ _." Bilbo said_ _flippantly_ _. "_ _He'll_ _end up making some rogue comment before his term is over and he_ _won't_ _be_ _elect_ _ed again. End of story."_

_"Glad to see you so_ _optimistic_ _." Thorin said with a shake of his head. His attention returned to the_ _podium_ _as the_ _Thain_ _hobbled up to speak, age gnarled hands holding onto the_ _rostrum_ _for_ _support_ _._

_"Fellow hobbits," he began, voice projecting out with a strength his body seemed to lack. "this_ _meeting_ _has been called with the utmost_ _importance_ _, and requires action. After several months of observing and consulting a_ _professional_ _it has been decided to finally do_ _something_ _. Ladies and_ _gentlehobbits_ _, we have another Fell Winter at our hands."_

_The reaction was_ _instantaneous_ _. Cries of shock and disbelief brought the volume from zero to a_ _hundred_ _, and Bilbo could only feel the dread build_ _further_ _. The_ _Thain_ _shook his head in_ _resignation_ _, knowing that the meeting was going to be far more_ _difficult_ _from_ _here_ _on out. Bilbo gave Thorin's hand one more squeeze before_ _risi_ _ng and joining his_ _gra_ _ndfather at the podium, putting a hand on his shoulder._

_"Excuse me! Please, kindly be quiet and listen!" Bilbo all but yelled, trying to gather his wits enough to make the meeting_ _continue_ _. "I understand your worries, and that is exactly why this_ _meeting_ _is needed. The_ _Thain_ _, Mister_ _Twofoot_ ,  _Mister_ _Brandybuck_   _ _a__ _nd myself have agreed on some plans of action, but we need you all to be sure they can be_ _accomplish_ _ed. If we are to survive, it would do you all some good to listen!"_

_The hall's talking trailed off until there was near silence, and Bilbo breathed as he began to speak once more._

_"_ _Thank_ _you. Now, with the right choices, we will not have many reasons to worry. For those of you who do_ _remember_ _the first Fell Winter, you know that we ran out of food quite early on. The_ _Thain_ _and I have taken it upon ourselves to order shipments of meal_ _s_ _taples, and it will be rationed. We have only as much as we have_ _though_ _, so it would do you all some good to stretch_ _what_ _you have in your pantries."_

_"Some of us are already stretched a bit thin, Mister_ _Baggins_ _!" A male's voice came from the back. He did not stand, and_ _Bilbo_ _could not discern who was speaking amongst the murmur of agreement from a few other hobbits. "What of us? Are we expected_ _to_ _cut back more?"_

_"I never_ _said_ _that, sir. If you need food, and I mean need it--no asking for a cup of sugar for a cake or butter for bread--then you may come and talk to the_ _Thain_ _, Mister_ _Twofoot_ ,  _Mister_ _Brandybuck_   _ _o__ _r myself after this meeting. Henceforth, a letter or a visit to any of us will get you what you need_ _._ _Don't_ _hesitate to ask, but please, be mindful of others at the same time. This is not to the time to make sure you have enough for 7 meals. You can all get by on less than 4, and you know it._

_"_ _Furthermore_ _, the concern for safety is_ _heavy_ _in our minds. You all_ _remember_ _the_ _Brandywine_ _River_ _freezing_ _and what trouble that brought. As such,_ _we've_   _come_ _to the_ _conclusion_ _that_ _it's_ _time to_ _put_ _aside everyday comfort and actually put forward and effort. We cannot rely solely on Rangers for_ _protection_ _in this case, and we must know how to defend ourselves. We--"_

_"_ _What_ _would you have us do? Take up swords we_ _don't_ _own? Would you expect us to kill?!"_ _Lobelia's_ _shrewd voice_ _floated_ _over the general dismayed noise that began, and Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh._ _Gerontius_ _shook his head in weariness, already tired of the meeting._

_"_ _Lobelia_ _\--"_

_"Hobbits are not_ _made_ _to kill, Bilbo_ _Baggins_ _! You expect us to simply go about chopping off heads?! Is that it?!" She demanded, rising from her seat. Bilbo clenched his fists._

_"I expect you to have some common decency and care for your neighbors!" Bilbo snapped, bringing a fist down upon the podium. "It is not_ _squirrel_ _s or birds that will attack, it is wolves who will rip your very body to shreds and_ _you're_ _scared of_ _havi_ _ng to kill such a foul_ _creature_ _? Please pardon me, but you need to_ _reevaluate_ _your_ _priorities_ _!"_

_A silence descended over the crowd and Bilbo closed his eyes for a_ _moment_ _, trying to halt the stress and_ _anxiety_ _that was quickly building. They needed to abide by what had been decided, lest half the Shire die from_ _stubbornness_ _. Bilbo refused to have people not realize how bad things could be until they were stuck right in the middle of it and had no way_ _out_ _. The scraping of a chair alerted to Bilbo to movement and he turned as Thorin rose to come and stand next to him. The podium was quite crowded by now, but the presence of his grandfather and intended helped to keep Bilbo grounded, if just for a while longer._

_"Hobbits of the Shire, many of you know me. For those who do not, I am Thorin_ _Oakenshield_ _, a dwarf of_ _Ered_   _Luin_ _. My_ _company_ _and I have volunteered our service in keeping the Shire safe_ _, but our numbers are limited, and we cannot be everywhere at once. As such, we will personally teach any hobbit who wishes to know how to fight._

_"Swords are not needed, as the sickles and scythes_ _I've_ _seen in my time here will do. However, if a sword is wanted, it can be arranged. Mister_ _Baggins_ _here is the most selfless hobbit I know, and he asks these things of you all to keep you safe. He has_ _experienced_ _one Fell Winter already, as have many of you, and he wishes not to repeat the_ _tragedies_ _that_ _occurred_ _. I may not know many of_ _you_ _, but I too would regret if anything bad were to happen,_ _especially_ _if it_ _could've_ _been prevented."_

_Thori_ _n l_ __o_ _ _oked out over the crowd with his head held high, and_ _almost_ _regal bearing to_ _his_ _very presence. Bilbo found himself taken by a strong wave of affection for the dwarf who had quite frankly ruined everything he thought to be daily life, and changed him for the_ _better_ _. Bilbo snatched his hand from behind the podium and held it tightly,_ _transferring_ _the gratitude in his heart through the contact, trying to make Thorin know just how much he was valued. The dwarf squeezed his hand back, and Bilbo_ __knew he_ _ __understood_ _ __._ _

__"Thank you, Mister_ _ __Oakenshield_ _ __. Your service to us all is greatly_ _ __appreciate_ _ __d." The_ _ __Thain_ _ __said, nodding over at_ _ __Bilbo_ _ __as a_ _ __signal_ _ __that he could handle things from here. Bilbo gave him grandfather a polite smile before moving to sit back down with_ _ __Thorin_ _ __by his_ _ __side_ _ __, a steady hand in his own. "Now then, questions, concerns, things of the like if_ _ __you'd_ _ __please."_ _

__"I said that I would not give you another sword as a courting gift, so I quite hope a public_ _ __declaration_ _ __of my intent to protect serves just as a good of a purpose." Thorin whispered, trying not to look too pleased as Bilbo struggled to rein in his growing grin. Such a look would serve no good at such a serious meeting!_ _

* * *

 "I do not wish to upset you."

"I know." Bilbo sighed, eyes staring into the flame he was slowly coaxing."But Thorin, you must understand why I do what I do."

"I do--"

"Then let it be!" Bilbo shook his head. "I don't like being an exhausted, stress riddled mess as much as you think I do, but I do this for a purpose. You do what you do for a purpose. Are they not the same?"

"I do what I do for you." Thorin told him as he crouched down besides Bilbo. "You do it for others."

"My reason is just as selfish as yours. I could not live with myself if someone died when I could've prevented it."

"You will not be able to prevent everything that happens. Unless you do it purposely, it will never be your fault."

"I suppose." Bilbo said, and he rose with another sigh. "I can never truly plan things, can I?"

"Until you can see into the future, I'm afraid not." Thorin told him as he stood. He opened his arms and Bilbo welcomed the embrace, laying his head upon Thorin's chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Perhaps that batty old wizard can."

"Gandalf is off doing Yavanna knows what, he shan't be much help. We'll have to make do with what skills we have." Bilbo replied in resignation. He lifted his head and rose to the tips of his toes and gently kissed Thorin. "Come now, I ought to start breakfast."

* * *

The field surrounding the Party Tree had been the only spot large enough for any training to take place, and as such, was chosen for such a purpose. Snow was heavy upon the ground, nearly halfway to Bilbo's calves and covered the feet of the dwarves' boots. It did not halt the progress as many would've expected it to, instead driving everyone to work harder, their eagerness to get back home and warm up evident.

 

Bilbo could see the commotion from the window in the parlor, the room he was currently using for his work. Letters lay scattered about, some read, and some not, but all bearing the ides that they were urgent. Bilbo wasn't saying that they weren't, but honestly, some hobbits did  _not_  get the memo that a request for food or supplies wasn't some fancy grocery service. Bilbo didn't want to skimp of what was being given out, and the health of those who inquired was heavy in his mind, but already, nearly one fourth of the letters he received were from hobbits who he  _knew_  did not need as much as they asked for. Bilbo was fine with telling them that, but trying to make it sound polite? That was a challenge.

 

A sharp knock to the door captured Bilbo's attention and took him from his focus on writing out replies. He stood with a sigh, laying his quill down as the knock sounded again.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" He called, hurrying off to answer the door. Bilbo's polite smile disappeared when he opened the door, his shadow of a good mood disintegrating at the hobbit in front of him.

"Lobelia. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Bilbo greeting, voice deadpan. She pushed her way inside past Bilbo, snow drifting off the shoulders of her coat as she shivered.

"I came to submit a request for food obviously! I don't have all day, so might we do this quickly?" She told him, ignorant to Bilbo's annoyance.

"Lobelia, you can't simply come here unannounced. Visits are all fine and well, but I'm quite busy right now and have other people to attend to."

"Other people!" She spluttered. "Bilbo Baggins, I am  _family_ _!_  How can you simply toss me aside?!"

"Lobelia," Bilbo said, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know as well as you do that you do not need extra food. You may  _want_  it, but you don't  _need_  it. I could understand coal--"

"Coal! I would never use that! It'll stink my smial right up."

"Then I cannot give you anything!" Bilbo exclaimed. "You are not a poor hobbit, you are not a hobbit who gets their food from directly sowing it. I have seen your pantry, now if you please, see your way out of here!"

Lobelia was silent for a moment, mouth hanging open in her affronted shock. "How dare you! Those dwarves have changed you, Bilbo, and not for the better. Made you all stuck up and greedy!"

"Perhaps I've just been spending too much time with you! Stuck up and greedy alright!"

"Hmph! See if I let this go. Otho will go right to the Thain and and we'll get what we need, since you're too miserable to give anything up!"

"Wonderful. Now, goodbye! Off with you!" Bilbo opened the door expectantly, and watching with a scowl as his cousin went on her way. He slammed the door with a frustrated groan, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was only trying to do what he thought was right, and yet this was his thanks! As Bilbo leaned against the door, shaking his head in exasperation, another fist rapped against the door and the hobbit nearly screamed.

"Very sorry, but I am  _not_  taking visitors at this time!" He flung open the door once more and stared right into the eyes of the person at his door. At least, he would've been, had the visitor been his height, rather than a near foot taller.

"Should I be turnin' the rest of us away then?"

"I didn't mean you, Dwalin." Bilbo grumbled, turning away as the dwarf entered and wiped off his boots. He raised an eyebrow.

"What's got you in a tizzy then?"

"Cousins by marriage bursting in and trying to make me bend to her will. Honestly, how dare she!"

"Mhmm."

"She thinks she can just waltz in here and call  _me_  greedy!"

"Yep."

"Family! Where do they get these silly ideas about bossing each other around?"

"No clue."

"Pah, you don't understand." Bilbo sighed, waving his hand at Dwalin. The dwarf snorted.

"Of course I do. I have annoyin' family too. You've met Balin. Dori and Nori too."

Bilbo found himself smiling at the half hearted quip. "Where's everyone else then?"

"Thorin's down at the smithy, everyone else should be--"

"Bilbo! It's  _freezing_  out, can you make tea?" The door swinging open and a whining Kíli cut Dwalin off, the younger dwarf flipping down his hood with a shiver as he scurried in. The rest of the company soon followed, each complaining of the same thing and scarcely allowing Bilbo to get a word in. He rolled his eyes at the normal commotion and simply walked away, his lack of presence unbeknownst to the griping bunch. He sat back down in his chair heavily, rubbing his eyes with his hand. It wasn't that Bilbo had a problem with serving them, but honestly, couldn't they manage a cup of tea! He wasn't simply sitting around either, he was  _very_  busy.

"Bilbo, tea?" Kíli asked again, popping his head into the parlor. Bilbo nodded as he went back to perusing the various letters.

"Yes, that'd be lovely. I take it with sugar."

"That wasn't what I meant!"

"Well, that's  _my_  answer. You're old enough to use a kettle by now. Perhaps not mature enough, but definitely old enough."

Kíli heaved a quick sigh before disappearing once more, and leaving Bilbo to his work with the clatter of normal dwarvish noise as his background. Bilbo sighed as he opened another letter. There were 11 dwarves in Bag End, surely one of them could manage!

* * *

Thorin didn't arrive back until close to supper, long after the sun had set and darkness fell around them like a blanket. Bilbo could hear the door open and close from the kitchen where he was busy making bread for that meal.

 

"Hello there." Bilbo smiled at him as Thorin walked into the kitchen, the dwarf coming over to him and planting a kiss on his lips.

"Hello. Have I missed supper?"

"Just in time, in fact. We can eat while the bread bakes."

"Marvelous. I'm starving." Thorin kissed Bilbo again, making the hobbit laugh.

"For some reason, I feel that it isn't food you're starving for."

"Oh, you caught me." Thorin confessed, smiling as his intended grinned.

"So naughty!" Bilbo mock chastised. "Now go wash up, I have to put this in to bake." He laughed again when Thorin stole one more quick kiss. "Go, you scoundrel!"

Bilbo shook his head as Thorin went off, his face still painted with a smile. Never before had there been someone who could bring a grin to his face so easily, and leave him filled with such a feeling of complete love that he thought his heart just might burst. Bilbo sighed contently, and moved to put the bread in to bake.

He wiped his hands on the front of his trousers once the bread was in the hearth, and walked over to the window. The glass was decorated with frost, the icy patterns swirling up from the corners of the glass. Bilbo breathed on the window before rubbing at it with his hand, clearing away some of the frost. The snow covered land was sedentary in the dark, lit only by the lanterns that hung outside of doors. Bilbo let his breath fog up the glass as he surveyed his surroundings, breath catching at what he thought was movement. Bilbo stood on the tips of his toes and pressed his nose to the glass as he attempted to get a better look, but saw nothing outside. There were no footsteps left in the snow that caught on the dull nightly illumination and all the shadows were still.

Bilbo shook his head as he pulled back from the window, exhaling evenly. The temperatures were quite low by now, but there was no way the Brandywine River would be anything near frozen over. Besides, they would be able to defend themselves by the time it was. This winter would be better. No one would be unprepared.

"Where is everyone?" Thorin asked, entering the kitchen again. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"Down in the wine cellar. They didn't want to bother making tea when they got back, and Nori had the wonderful idea that ale warms you up faster than anything else, so there they are."

If on cue, there was a muffled shout of delight from the cellar, and Bilbo could only shake his head. Thorin gave a glance towards the floor before looking back at Bilbo.

"I have something for you."

"Oh?"

"Perhaps it is too early for it, but I did not wish to wait." Thorin reached into his pocket and drew out something, the item hidden in his closed fist. "Unless, you think it's early. I do not wish to rush things."

Bilbo shook his head, face alight with a grin. "Of course not. No, no it's all fine. But ah, I don't have anything for you right now."

"That's alright. The exchange of gifts among dwarves tends to be a bit..."

"Spontaneous?"

"Of a touch and go situation." Thorin finished with a smile. "While the exchange of a gift back is only seen as a yes traditionally, many understand that accepting a gift holds the same meaning."

Thorin opened his fist and upon his palm, sat a small silver bead. Bilbo breathed out as he gazed upon it, marveling yet again at the detail Thorin put into his craft. 

The bead was set with stones of blue and a greyish white, the colors forming a pattern as they traced the set design. Together, they formed leaves that circled around from the bottom to the top before becoming silver once more. Bilbo took the bead gently, turning it around in his hand as he stared, awestruck at the detail.

"It's blue quartz and scolecite. They're both love stones, as well as protection stones."

"It's gorgeous." Bilbo breathed, a smile taking up nearly all of his face. "Is my hair long enough to braid though?"

"Of course. Here, turn to the side." Bilbo suppressed a shiver when Thorin ran his hand through his hair, finger brushing up against the point of his ear and making his knees weak. The dwarf worked quickly, his fingers efficient at braiding.

"Kíli's hair had a bit of curl to it when he was younger. This is simple." Thorin told him as he wound the sections of hair around each other. Bilbo held the bead tightly in his hand, heart thrumming in his chest. The commotion of the company in the cellar sounded beneath them, laughter and loud voices floating up with indistinct words and sounds. Bilbo felt Thorin tug slightly at the end of the braid, tightening it, and he opened his hand and held the bead out for him. Thorin took it gently and Bilbo stayed stock still as he put it on.

"All finished." He said softly, and Bilbo sighed as Thorin ran the small braid through his hand. Bilbo turned to look at Thorin as he reached up and felt the braid, his fingers trailing down until it reached the bead. Thorin gently touched Bilbo's jaw and the hobbit rose to the tips of his toes as their lips met.

"Thank you." He whispered against his mouth, smiling. Thorin smiled back and put his forehead against Bilbo's.

"Only the best for you, my  _ghivashel_ _._ "

"Treasure of all treasures." Bilbo said with a laugh. "You old softie." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for not updating sooner i'm such trash
> 
> i'm quite busy as of late, and i had actually planned to have this finished before botfa came out, but that is probably not going to happen unfortunately 
> 
> on the brighter side, there's perhaps 4-5 chapters left?? so please stick with me i'm trying very hard to get this finished 
> 
> also i made up hugo twofoot because there was no name for the mayor of michel delving for that period in time so, yes


	19. Chapter 19

Thorin could easily remember his first winter after leaving Erebor, the first time in his life that he did not have his entire family to spend it with. His small group, now reduced further, had arrived in Ered Luin right on the brink of the season with scarcely a coin to their name. The loss of his mother was still fresh in everyone's hearts, grief weighing down their already stress addled minds. Frerin and Dis were very young then, utter children by all standards. Balin was the oldest, but even he was only a few years past his coming of age, and they were all woefully unprepared. With Freia's body buried in an unmarked grave hundreds of miles away and winter ready to set in, Thorin focused solely on his family, and most importantly, their survival.

It was years before they had the money to celebrate holidays with anything more than a curse at the day off, and even longer before Thorin enjoyed it as his younger siblings did. Thorin's anger thrummed in the back of his mind, pushed away and forgotten the best he could. He was angry with his father and grandfather, damning their names for bringing this banishment upon them. He cursed his mother for dying, for leaving them to fend for themselves when they were far too young. He even raged at himself, berating endlessly for being to stupid to have prevented all of this. 

In time, he learned to forgive. With his family's help, Thorin slowly forgave himself and those who had accidentally wronged them. He prayed to Mahal for the safe keeping of his parents and grandfather and learned to live once more. He was still angry, quite furious indeed. But as time went on and money came in, Thorin's life in Ered Luin became far more comfortable than it ever was in Erebor. Dís met Víli and soon Thorin had two nephews running afoot, and he was truly happy.

 

Perhaps, Thorin had reasoned, that was why the safe keeping of the Shire was so important to him. No matter what he said, Bilbo still blamed himself for his parent's deaths, and by some sort of logic, that meant that everyone else's had been his fault too. Maybe he felt that saving everyone this time around would make the amends he could never, or maybe he didn't. Thorin didn't know what he really thought, not deep down. But, he understood the fear of an unprepared winter. He understood trying to move past loss to start anew. Bilbo needed it, and deserved it, and Thorin was determined to help him get it. 

* * *

Thorin's breath floated out in curling clouds, the vapor a milky grey against the white of the snow. He stood near the Party Tree, observing the training that was happening in front of him. Hobbits were incredibly fast learners, and the company was adapting to going against much smaller opponents, especially when their weapon choice was not that of another dwarf or orc.  

For those who were not learning combat with weapons, they were being taught defensive tactics instead. Some had slingshots as Ori did, but knew that it would not save them if their enemy ever got too close. The large amount of snow made it more difficult to move, but everyone seemed to be managing. 

"How is everything going?"

Thorin's attention was drawn from the combat training in front of him to where Bilbo's voice originated, watching as the hobbit came walking up. He had his chin buried in his scarf and his hands deep in his pockets, nose red from the chill. Thorin looked back out across the field.

  
"Well enough. Everyone is learning fairly well, and there's not been a problem yet."

   
"Very good. Even the kids are being watched." Bilbo laughed, and Thorin looked over at where Fíli and Kíli were playing with a throng of fauntlings. What had originally been an attempt at teaching the children basic defense maneuvers had turned into a snowball fight, with all the participants laughing. Thorin watched Bilbo observe them, a smile coming to his face as Bilbo grinned.

 

"How much longer? I can imagine everyone's rather cold by now." Bilbo said.  

"Being cold helps. It teaches them how to keep moving even when they don't want to." Thorin replied, and looked at Bilbo when the hobbit laughed. 

"Seriously? All the cold is teaching me is to not leave Bag End. "

"Well, we can't all good at what we think to do, I suppose." Thorin remarked, and smirked when Bilbo hit his arm in mock indignation. 

"The nerve of you!" 

Thorin grabbed his hand when Bilbo went to smack his arm again and laughed when Bilbo took to using the hand that was still free. He took hold of the both of them and kissed him lightly, remembering a beat too late that it was seem as improper for them to be doing such a thing. 

"Sorry."

"The only thing you should be sorry for is that you stopped." Bilbo quipped and grinned when Thorin rolled his eyes. "Oh! I'd nearly forgotten why I'd come out here."

"Meaning that it wasn't to see me?"

"No, it was. Dís sent us a letter." Bilbo pulled out the folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Thorin, smiling as the dwarf opened it. 

_Thorin and Bilbo,_

_Congratulations on the courtship! I daresay that it took much longer than any of us expected, and I choose to blame Thorin for that. He's terrible with emotions Bilbo, please watch out._

"Don't listen to her."

"Of course not."

_As for the both of you, I've heard the full story, from beginning to now, from my darling sons. It's quite the tale, I must say. Like the romance stories Thorin used to read._

"It was once!"

Bilbo laughed. "I'm sure it was."

_I'm sure Thorin is getting red as a cherry right about now, so I'll leave the embarrassing stories for now. There will be a time for those in the future. As always, take care of yourselves, and give everyone my love. Körbl will stay with you until you give him a letter or decide to send him off. I suspect he misses his master, so Bilbo, don't be surprised if Thorin starts spending more time with a bird than you._

_-Dís_

_P.S. Might I have a possible time frame for when I can see all you again? I'll come right to the Shire if I must._

"It's a shame that I have to wait to hear more stories. Perhaps I'll ask Dwalin." Bilbo mused, and he laughed aloud when Thorin shoved the letter back at him. "How much longer do you plan to be out here?"

Thorin looked out across the field with scrutiny, carefully observing the overall state of everyone. "Perhaps half an hour more? It'll be soon."

"Marvelous. I'll see you then." Bilbo replied, and he rose to the tips of his toes and pressed a quick kiss to the dwarf's lips. Thorin smiled slightly as he watched him turn and go, hands back in his pockets and face turned down into his scarf. The 

* * *

Bilbo was in his study when Thorin and the company returned, bent over a paper and writing. Thorin rubbed his hands together to warm them as he walked in, boots and cloak shed back in the front hallway. Körbl was perched on the top of the desk, watching as Bilbo scratched away at his paper. 

"Is that for Dís?" He asked, coming over and putting one hand on Bilbo's shoulder and scratching Körbl with the other. 

"No. Just checking in on the inventory." Bilbo told him, not looking up. "There's not much of a reason to, but I worry. I know we have enough, but it's just..."

"You don't need to explain." Thorin soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Someone else will cook if you don't wish to."

"Yes, that'd be lovely." Bilbo sighed, finally turning around to look at Thorin. "Thank you." 

"Anything for you." Thorin replied, and he squeezed Bilbo's shoulder before leaving the study. There was a flutter of wings behind him as Körbl took off, trailing behind him before landing on his shoulder. Thorin nearly winced at the sharpness of his talons, his shoulder having forgot what abuse came with owning a raven who had a habit of taking perch wherever he pleased. 

"He is smart." The bird croaked, making Thorin smile. Most of the company was in the kitchen, sitting around and talking, while only Fíli, Kíli and Ori were absent. 

"Indeed he is. Smarter than many." Thorin said, finding the remaining three in the parlor. Ori was bent over a book of Bilbo's, silently reading while Fíli and Kíli squabbled over a paper. Thorin presumed that they were writing to their mother, most likely telling her stories that he would have to answer for. 

"You are happy." Körbl crowed, and Thorin nodded with a slight chuckle. 

"Aye, that is true. I am quite happy." He quietly opened the door to Bilbo's bedroom, which had in his mind, also become his own. Bilbo had a habit of being struck by an idea at the oddest of times, and Thorin had woken on a few occasions to see him scribbling away by candlelight. As such, there was paper, ink and a quill squirreled away in one of the nightstand drawers. Thorin fetched it before sitting down on the bed. He took the lid off the ink pot and dipped the quill in, but his words were stayed when he tried to write.

"Has anything happened at home? Anything of importance?" Thorin asked, trying to figure out some way to start his letter. 

"No." Körbl said, and not a word more. Thorin rolled his eyes. 

"Wonderful." He sighed, and gnawed on his lip for a moment before writing. 

_Dear Dís_

_I would be eternally grateful if you would cease from trying to tell Bilbo embarrassing tales about me. For someone who was so adamant about a courtship forming, you seem awfully inclined to ruin it. Or, is that just a trait for siblings? You and Frerin are both a meddlesome, conflicting pair. It has been far too long to be away from home._

_"_ How long since we first went off?" Thorin wondered aloud, glancing at his shoulder when the raven responded. 

"Nearly two years. A long while."

"Yes, thank you."

_Two years is too long a while to be away, and I wish I could apologize. But I cannot. This trip has given me more than I have ever dreamed and I do not regret it. I am sorry for keeping your sons for so long, and I shall be obliged if you were to come retrieve them. But then again, they are spies for you, are they not? My own nephews, betraying me as such._

_There is no need for you to come to the Shire. I would not so easily take Bilbo from his home, and as such I can give you no date for our return. The Shire is in a bit of a rough spot right now, and we are all needed. But worry not, for we shall be home soon. Stay safe and give everyone my best._

_-Thorin_

_P.S._

Thorin lifted the quill from the paper as he debated whether or not to finish what he wanted to say. He knew it. Dís was probably expecting it. What was so bad about finally putting it down on paper?

_I should like to return to Ered Luin with Bilbo not as my intended, but as my husband. Of course, you'd quite like to be there for the wedding, now wouldn't you?_

Thorin swore that Körbl laughed at him, his shoulder a perfect spot to be reading his letter from. Thorin set aside the parchment to dry, knowing that Bilbo would be held up somewhere but his bedroom long enough for the ink to dry. 

* * *

It was early the next morning when Thorin woke, feeling groggy and not knowing the reason for waking so suddenly. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, gently moving aside as not to disturb Bilbo. Then he heard it. It was a bit faint, but Thorin could catch a knocking at the front door. He contemplated waking Bilbo to have him get it, but Thorin reasoned that he needed all the rest he could get. With a groan he pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed, the floor chilly on his feet. The fire in the room had died down to almost nothing, just orange coals buried beneath ash. The knocking continued as Thorin headed towards the door, growing more frantic. 

"What?" Thorin flung the door open irritably, scowling at the hobbit at the door. He was a young fellow, bundled up in his coat and mittens. 

"Ah, is um, Mister Bilbo home? T-This is from the Thain." He stuttered, obviously intimidated by Thorin. The dwarf scrubbed a hand over his face. 

"He's asleep. I can give it to him later."

"Oh no sir, it's very important. Mister Bilbo needs it right away!"

"Look--"

"Thorin, who is it?" He turned at the sound of his intended's voice to see Bilbo coming down the hall, his dressing gown wrapped tightly around himself. 

"There is someone here for you. He has a letter from the Thain."

"Oh. Well, good morning." Bilbo said. "I can take that. Mister Thorin here can collect any mail for me henceforth, alright lad?"

"Yes Mister Bilbo. Have a nice day!" 

Thorin closed the door as the hobbit took off, shivering at the last gust of freezing  wind. Bilbo barely looked awake as he observed the letter, his hair a mess and eyes drooping as clumsy fingers struggled to open it. 

"How peculiar." He yawned. "My grandfather hates sending letters to family."

"The boy said it was important." Thorin supplied, yawning as well. "It can't be bad if the Thain wouldn't come here himself."

"Mm, I suppose so." Bilbo mumbled, opening the envelope and drawing out the paper inside. Thorin stretched his arms as Bilbo read, groaning when his back cracked. Bilbo had yet to say a word, and Thorin looked at him curiously.

"Bilbo, what's wrong?" The hobbit's face was pale, his wide eyes scanning the lines of writing. He swallowed heavily and looked up at Thorin with trembling hands, the letter quaking in his grip. 

"T-There's been an attack. A wolf near Tuckborough. A...A hobbit was killed."

"Oh no..." Thorin took the letter from Bilbo's hands and quickly read it, eyes flying over the words. It wasn't much, just a simple memo that a body had been found that morning. It didn't go into detail, but Thorin knew of the viciousness of wolves, and he was right in thinking that Bilbo did too. "Bilbo, I'm so sorry."

"There was nothing we could've done." He replied neutrally, face now a blank slate. Thorin reached to touch his shoulder, but Bilbo turned away, shuffling back towards his bedroom. 

"Bilbo--"

"I'm just...I need to think. Please leave me be."

Thorin watched him go, the letter still held in one of his hands. He heard the door click shut before swearing under his breath, crumpling the paper as he fisted one hand in his hair. He stormed off to Fíli and Kíli's bedroom and pushed the door open, scowling fiercely. 

"Get up. Meeting, right now."

A groan followed him out as he went to the next room, waking the company harshly. Some like Gloín and Balin rose without protest, while Kíli and Ori had to be carried to the kitchen by Thorin and Dwalin respectively. 

"Wha' happened? Wha's going on?" Kíli whined when Thorin dropped him down onto the bench at the table, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I didn't do anythin'."

"This isn't about you. Bilbo got this letter this morning." Thorin tossed the stress wrinkled paper onto the table. "A hobbit was killed last night by a wolf."

A collective noise of sympathy and sadness went up as the letter was passed from dwarf to dwarf. Thorin pushed away from the table and began to pace, his blood boiling with tension. 

"The training isn't enough. We've failed Bilbo."

"Thorin, be rational. We can't save everyone." Balin said. "The first step to helping someone is making them help themselves, and we've been trying."

"But it isn't enough!" Thorin snapped. "I gave him my word that the Shire would be protected. Scarcely a month has gone by and already my promise is ruined!"

"Well, what did ya expect?" Dwalin said, shaking his head. "Bilbo expected this. He knew it was goin' to happen. He just needs to come to terms with it."

"I will not force him to come to terms with death." Thorin growled, stalking back towards the table. "Getting the Shire through this is partly his responsibility, and he's already had to do it once prior! Can you honestly tell him to simply _come to terms_?"

Silence fell upon them, heavy in its weight. Thorin rubbed a hand through his hair, trying to calm the knots in his stomach and the anger in his heart. 

"More needs to be done. I'm asking you as both his intended and his friend. Bilbo has suffered enough yet, has he not? Will you subject him to such unheeded cruelty?"

"What would you have us do?" Dori asked. 

"We could form watches. Ride out around the Shire at different times and look for anything." Thorin suggested, his body's tension easing when the company murmured in agreement. "Pairs of two would be best. We may be strong, but assistance is always needed. Understood?"

"Aye." 

Thorin sighed as he slid onto the open spot on the bench, propping his head up with his hands. 

"I can never repay the debt I owe you all." He muttered. Bofur made a dismissive noise and patted his back. 

"Oh, come off it. We'll stand by you no matter what. Forget all that debt rubbish."

Thorin looked up into the eyes of his company, just a ragtag group of dwarves who were loyal to a fault. They were friends and family, and had their own lives that were nearly being put on hold for his. A small smile grew on his face as he surveyed them all and he nodded.

"Thank you, my friends."

* * *

It wasn't until a few hours later that Bilbo left his bedroom, his messy hair suggesting that he had fallen back asleep. The company had dispersed by then, those that were still tired retreating back for more sleep and others joining Thorin for breakfast. It was hardly a meal, simply bread with honey on it and a cup of tea in some cases. Thorin would've preferred something stronger, but it was still too early for any alcohol. It was a quiet affair, silence broken only by the occasional sentence, cups clinking as they were put back on the table, and the sound of bread being devoured. 

"Good morning." Bilbo said quietly as he shuffled in. Thorin moved to the side a bit as Bilbo took a seat next to him, fatigue evident in his voice. "You're all up early." 

"It's not that early, sun's already up." Dwalin replied, munching away. "The rest are still sleeping." 

"I suppose you're right. Dori, could you please pass me the tea?" 

"Oh, let me get that. It isn't a problem." The dwarf swiped Bilbo's cup before he could pick it up and poured some of the tea in. Bilbo mumbled a thank you as he took it back, still detached the way he was earlier. Thorin shared a look with Dori as he put the teapot back down. Perhaps it was his duty to say something, but words evaded him now more than ever. Besides, what could he say that would ease whatever Bilbo was feeling? 

"Say, what day is it?" Bilbo asked, his voice gaining a bit more of its normal tone. They were all quiet for a moment, Thorin barely remembering what month it was. Time had lost its importance at some point he could not discern and the only use of dates to him was to know how long it had been since he last saw Ered Luin. 

"December 5th, I do believe." Dori replied. "My, time has just flown."

"Indeed." Bilbo muttered. "I had hoped to see Gandalf by now."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon. You made him out to be an amicable character."

"He is." Bilbo said, his words stressed. "And it worries me as such. Gandalf would never be gone longer than he needs to. I just wonder what he could possibly be up to."

"I do not think he would've left if he did not need to." Thorin said as he stroked his beard. "It will be important to you, I'm assuming."

"Hm, yes. I'm assuming the same." Bilbo mused, and he took a sip of his tea. The other dwarves looked a bit puzzled, and Thorin realized he had never really elaborated on just who Gandalf was. 

"Who's Gandalf?" Bombur inquired, quietly munching on some bread with butter. 

"Ah, an old friend. A wizard. A hindrance with a love for wine." Bilbo told him, and Thorin could see how the snarky remark breathed life back into him. His mind was slowly being taken off the dead hobbit of earlier, and it was just what he needed. 

"A  _wizard_?" Gloín exclaimed. "Oh by Mahal, what my Gimli is going to say when I tell him!"

"He's not very powerful, as far as I know. All he's ever done here was make fireworks and enchant my grandfather's cufflinks. Not much practical use."

"Why's he so important then?" Nori remarked. "He sounds rather…normal. At least for a wizard."

"He's quite intelligent." Bilbo said. "He was the one who we went to for early counsel in what actions to take this winter, and he's yet to lead us astray. I'd just quite like him here for peace of mind, I suppose." 

"Mm, yes I can see that." Dori said with a nod. "Back when Nori was going off to Mahal knows where, I was worried sick. I'd much rather him be a little thief at home. At least then I know where he might be and who to apologize to." 

As the siblings began to squabble and the others laughed, Bilbo smiled for the first time that morning. It was as if a weight was lifted off Thorin's chest as he watched the worry and sadness ease in the hobbit's eyes. He would never be able to put his gratitude for his company into words, standing by and holding him up when he was so close to falling. He may not have been able to initiate the recovery of Bilbo's good spirits, but he could certainly strive to keep it going. 

* * *

It was not for another two weeks before Thorin began to understand the true depths of Bilbo's worry, and just why it was so justified. 

Watches had started that night, with 3 groups going out at time. The Shire was not so big as that the dwarves' ponies could not make it to their assigned Farthings in a relatively short amount of time. The watches were in intervals of 4 hours each, so that by the time morning came, nearly all of the company had gone. At first, the idea of the watches had not gone over well with Bilbo. He was too concerned for their safety, and the very thought of any of them being hurt put him into a frenzy. It took time, but Thorin was able to talk him through it, and assure Bilbo that they would be fine. One wolf would not stand a chance against two armed dwarves. 

If there so happened to be more, they would stand as strong as their abilities allowed. 

Since only 12 dwarves would go out over the course of the night, there would always be one back at Bag End with Bilbo. For the first week, it was Thorin. He trusted Dwalin and Balin to handle things when he could not go, and knew that Bilbo needed him to be there to keep his head level. 

But the call of action and danger pulled at Thorin, a sweet serenade that filled his head. He could not deny that he longed for a conflict, one where his heart would pound and his fingers could grip his sword tightly. The training with the hobbits nearly every morning could not compare to it. They were not a folk with fierceness in their blood, and the calmness of the Shire, while pleasant, could stifle a dwarf sometimes. 

As Thorin expected, Bilbo was not a fan of him taking part in the watches. Not because he wanted Thorin to stay at Bag End, but because Thorin hadn't been planning on bringing him as his second person. 

_"You will not be going if I am not as well." Bilbo told him firmly, arms crossed against his chest. Thorin sighed._

_"Bilbo, leave this to us. I told you we would protect the Shire, did I not?"_

_"You did. But since it was a gift to_ me _, I'd quite like to use it for myself. Which means taking part. You will have to tie me up should you expect to leave without me following."_

_"This is no session of training." Thorin said. "You heard what Bofur and Nori said about the wolf they killed. They are large, even for a dwarf. You are at a great risk for injury."_

_"So are you!" Bilbo exclaimed. "Thorin, you can bring someone else along with us, but I am going. End of story."_

_"And what if you are hurt?" Thorin argued, his voice rising. "Your attitude cannot save you then."_

_"Then I would allow injury for the sake of killing the beast!" Bilbo glowered at him, swallowing convulsively. "Thorin, I need this. I need to do more to help. Sitting on my behind and doling out rations is not enough."_

_"I could not stand it if you were hurt." Thorin tried desperately. "I would rather die than allow it."_

_"I'm not asking you to allow it. I'm simply telling you." Bilbo said, his words carrying a conclusive air about them. Thorin bowed his head in defeat and sighed again._

* * *

The next night, Bilbo was right on the pony with Thorin. He opted out of taking another dwarf with them, deciding to take the alone time as it came. Bilbo was no weakling, and could stand his ground if he needed to. 

They picked the West Farthing, as Bilbo knew it best. The Shire was not particularly large, and Thorin drove his pony at a calm walk through the snow. Each night, soon after dinner they set out, bundled in gloves and coats and with swords bound at their hips. Chatty some nights and silent during others, Bilbo was somber and quiet during the beginning of that night's watch and Thorin did not engage him. Nearly an hour had passed before he spoke, voice quiet against the howling of the winter wind. 

"It's nearly Yule. Only a few more days."

"Indeed." Thorin held the reins loosely, his arms around Bilbo's waist and his front pressed against the hobbit's back. They plodded on through the snow, entering the small thicket of woods that the company had camped in for the beginning of their stay. 

"Do you have anything special you usually do? Traditions or something of the sort."

"Not really. We usually have a family dinner and give out one present before bed. The rest are given the next morning."

"Oh, that's nice." Bilbo replied absentmindedly, fiddling with a string on his glove. Thorin moved his fingers, tense from the cold. 

"What about you? Dinner with the Gamgees, I presume?" 

"Not always. Sometimes I entertain one side of the family. I don't exactly have anyone to give gifts to in the morning, so I usually just give them all out the night before. There's usually a small festival, similar to the Harvest one."

"What, you celebrate the snow instead?"

Bilbo laughed dryly. "We celebrate and hope for a good spring and harvest. There's also a snowball fight. Very large one, and the winning team gets a prize."

"Hobbits are such lively creatures." Thorin commented, shaking his head. "I don't know how you do it."

"Lots of meals and a lack of physical activity otherwise, mostly." He remarked, smiling for the first time in that watch. Thorin shook his head at the joke, head coming forward to rest on Bilbo's for a moment. His curls ruffled softly beneath the cold fabric of his hood, the sound distracting Thorin from listening. Bilbo had no lack of attention however, and he went still suddenly, posture tense and unmoving. 

"Did you hear that?" 

"Hear what?"

"Listen. Just listen." 

Thorin brought Minty to a soft stop, barely breathing as he listened. The night was silent, with only the wind making a sound. There was no crack of a stick, nor the crunch of snow as they sat there, and gradually both Bilbo and Thorin relaxed. 

"I must've just been hearing things--"

There was a sound like thunder, a sudden vicious growl from behind a group of trees. Thorin's head whipped around just in time to see the animal--the  _wolf_ \--come tearing out, its teeth bared in a snarl and dark fur nearly disguising it. 

Thorin swore in Khuzdul under his breath as Bilbo grasped the reins, pulling Minty back bit by bit. The wolf advanced slowly, growling low in its throat. 

"Thorin. Oh gods, Thorin." Bilbo whispered, breath labored as he watched the beast. Thorin's hand moved towards his sword, grasping the hilt tightly. 

"Go, Bilbo. Go." He whispered back, and slid off the pony as quickly as he could. The wolf snarled as Thorin drew his sword, leaping forward with its teeth clacking. Thorin swung at it, his cold fingers clumsy and lacking the strength they needed.

"Thorin!"

"Go, I said!" He roared, swinging again and this time landing a blow. The blade cut into the wolf's leg and it stumbled, but charged forward in the next instant. Thorin's next swing was too slow, and the wolf snagged the blade in its jaws. It growled ferociously as Thorin braced himself against the ground, one hand gripping the handle and the other pressing against the flat side of the blade. 

The snow provided no traction, and he began to push back, feet sliding through the snow as the wolf snarled and tried to get past the blade. A sudden burst of strength pushed through the beast, and Thorin found himself on his back, the breath being knocked out of him as he hit the ground. His arms shook as they tried to hold the sword away, the wolf hardly at bay now. Its face was so close that he could smell its breath, pungent with the smell of raw flesh and death. Its breath was hot on his face and he bared his teeth, face going red with exertion. There was a shuffle in the snow from behind the wolf and Bilbo let out a cry as he lunged at the animal, bringing his sword into its side The blade cut deep and stuck, and the wolf howled in pain. It moved clumsily as its blood began to pump out of the jagged cut, messy and fatal. Thorin's arms ached as he stumbled off the ground, bringing his sword down upon its neck as it jumped at Bilbo. The blade cut through its flesh like butter, and the head fell upon the hobbit's feet with a thump, blood spurting from its neck as the carcass pitched to the side. Thorin breathed heavily, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. His heart pounded in his chest, blood flowing with adrenaline. 

He forced his eyes open and looked at Bilbo. The hobbit was frozen still, sitting in the snow and staring mutely at the dead animal. It was messy and brutal, and even Thorin was disgusted by it. 

"What is wrong with you? Why didn't you go?" Thorin demanded, finally having enough breath for his brain to use to comprehend his anger. Bilbo looked at him, shocked by the outburst. 

"I--"

"If I say go, you will go. Do you understand me? By Mahal, Bilbo, you could've been killed." Thorin stuck his sword back in its scabbard and rushed towards him then fell to his knees, checking him for injuries. It was hard to see closely in the darkness of the night, but as Bilbo gave no sign of distress, Thorin reasoned that he could wait until they were back at Bag End to check. 

Bilbo was quiet as he moved to his knees, wrapping his arms around Thorin's neck and holding him tightly. Thorin dropped his head down onto Bilbo's shoulder and put his arms around his body, squeezing him in the embrace. 

"It's alright. You're alright." He whispered, stroking Bilbo's now exposed hair. The hobbit nodded against his neck, and pulled back to lock eyes with him. 

"Please be careful. Please." He requested desperately, holding Thorin's face near his. Thorin dropped his forehead against Bilbo's and swallowed, nodding slightly. 

"Of course. I will." Bilbo's lips brushed his, trembling with emotion. The soft rustle of snow drew Thorin's attention away and he looked up to see Minty, her head bowed as she waited. Thorin exhaled and helped Bilbo to his feet. 

"Come on. Off we go." Bilbo shuffled back to the pony as Thorin grabbed his sword from the wolf's body, the blade cutting into the dead flesh as it slid out. He shook the excess blood off of it into the snow, staining it a dark burgundy in beneath the night's covering. Bilbo took it silently as Thorin handed it back, grimacing in disgust as he sheathed it. Thorin climbed back on Minty and took the reins. He was still for a moment as he breathed, then urged the pony onwards. 

* * *

Dwalin and Bofur took over Bilbo and Thorin's shift when they arrived back, exhausted and dirty. 

"We had to kill one. Be very cautious, and don't let your guard down for a second. Understood?" He warned, and they took it with the utmost seriousness. The others who had been on watch had suffered no encounters, their four hours lacking in any such engagement. They were all curious about what had happened, from the size of the wolf to the conflict itself. But Thorin felt drained,  mentally drained from it. Bilbo had trudged off to his bedroom without a word to any of them, and within a few minutes Thorin did the same. 

Bilbo had taken off his winter gear, lit a few candles in the room and was at the water basin when Thorin walked in, washing his face and hands of the filth on them. 

"Are you hurt at all?" Thorin asked. Bilbo shrugged. 

"Just a little. Nothing much."

"What is it? Let me see." Thorin commanded, crossing the room towards him. Bilbo moved back a bit, holding a hand to his chest. 

"It's fine. Don't worry."

"Bilbo, let me see." He demanded, reaching out and snatching the hand he held away. There was a bite mark near his thumb on the top and palm, not deep, but not much of a graze either. The blood that had been sluggishly seeping from the marks had been washed away by Bilbo, and the skin was red and welted. Thorin swore in frustration. 

"Where are the bandages?" He asked. 

"In the washroom. I'm fine Thorin, really!" He called as the dwarf went off to get them. Thorin growled in anger, both with himself and with Bilbo for allowing it to happened. He entered the washroom and looked inside the chest that Bilbo kept in there, holding towels and other necessities. He found the bandages and some salves, but was unsure of their uses. In his haste he simply grabbed them all, hurrying back into the room. Bilbo was washing his hand again when Thorin came back in, and he sat down on the bed with a resigned sigh. 

"When did this happen?" Thorin asked as he sat down next to Bilbo and dumped the bandages and salves down on the bed. Bilbo handed him the correct jar to use and held out his hand. 

"When it snapped at me."

"Right before I cut its head off?" Thorin asked bluntly, making Bilbo cringe. Despite the beast deserving its end, the death still bothered Bilbo. 

"Ah, yes. Right then." He clarified, hissing in pain when Thorin touched the bite marks with the cool salve. The dwarf moved gently, making soft movements as he applied a liberal amount to the marks. Bilbo made small noises of pain as he did so, moving in discomfort.

"You should've been more careful." Thorin muttered, picking up the bandages and beginning to wrap his hand. Bilbo's brows furrowed in discontent. 

"Pardon? I didn't exactly plan to get bitten you know."

"You didn't plan for this at all. You need to be more careful." Thorin stated again, grimacing as Bilbo pulled his hand away before Thorin could finish. 

"Sorry, but weren't you having trouble slaying that thing?  _I_  was the one who told you I heard something, and now you tell  _me_  to be more careful? It's you who needs to watch out!"

"I can handle myself. Worry about yourself." He replied briskly, grabbing his hand again and resuming the bandaging. Bilbo blew out a frustrated breath. 

"I'm not some defenseless fauntling, Thorin! If it wasn't for me, you could've  _died_!" Bilbo exclaimed as Thorin tore off the end of the bandage with his teeth. He tied it sharply, shooting Bilbo a look.

"I would rather die than have harm come to you. Is that so hard to understand?" He spat, gathering up the bandages and salves and moving them off the bed and over to the top of the dresser. Bilbo crossed his arms with a scowl. 

"What, and having you be hurt is so much better? You think I want to see you be hurt?!" Bilbo climbed off the bed and advanced towards him, expression an unusual mask of anger.  "Thorin, I almost listened to you and went off. Do you honestly think I could live with myself if you had  _died? Do you?!"_

Thorin closed the distance between them in an instant, grabbing Bilbo's face and silencing him with a harsh kiss. It was not sweet and soft as their usual embraces were, but demanding and desperate and fueled by adrenaline. Bilbo's hands came up to tangle in Thorin's hair, his frustration and fear from earlier transferring into the kiss as he nipped and tugged at Thorin's bottom lip. 

"You are mine, I will  _not_ have you be lost." Thorin muttered hotly against his mouth, punctuating his declaration with another hungry kiss. Bilbo soaked up the attention, feet moving backwards as the kiss deepened and stumbling back towards the bed. Thorin fell on top of his heavily, enough to momentarily break the kiss, but not enough to halt it completely. 

"You're such an idiot, you're so stupid." Bilbo said, his voice breaking, and in that moment, Thorin recognized that the thought of harm coming to his intended raised the same feeling of sickness and anxiety in Bilbo. He did not doubt Thorin's abilities, but knew just how quickly a situation could turn on a person. 

"I know. I know  _ghivashel_." Thorin kissed him again, his body now driven by passion and love than the overpowering hype of adrenaline. Bilbo moaned low in his throat as they moved more onto the bed and Thorin brought his hips down against Bilbo's, grinding with need. At this point, Thorin could not bring himself to care for courting traditions, his mind and heart focused solely on the hobbit below him. 

Bilbo moaned his name with a cracking voice, tilting his head back as Thorin began to kiss his jaw and neck, teeth nipping and leaving red marks. Bilbo practically keened beneath the ministrations, his fingers tangled in Thorin's hair or tugging at his clothes. 

Thorin unbuttoned his waistcoat and the first few buttons of his shirt, tasting the milky skin that was normally hidden beneath his clothes. Bilbo's shoulders and chest were dotted with freckles, small ones that dusted his skin like sugar. Thorin had only come to discover them recently, catching glimpses when Bilbo would wake in the morning and his sleepshirt had shifted to fall off to the side of one shoulder. 

Thorin unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and buried his head in the crook of Bilbo's neck, inhaling and pressing a kiss to his pulse point. 

"Is this okay?" He mumbled, pulling back slightly as he pushed the shirt and waistcoat from Bilbo's body. The hobbit nodded silently, moving to help the clothing fall from his arms. 

"Yes, gods yes." He threw his head back in a soundless cry when Thorin grinded down on him again, angling his hips so that their groins brushed in the most exquisite way. 

Bilbo pulled at Thorin's belt until it came free and left his tunic to hang free. Bilbo snuck his hands inside and pushed it up, feeling the solid abdominal muscles that reminded him just how strong Thorin actually was. The sensation of Bilbo running his hands over his body sent arousal spiking through his veins, and Thorin barely suppressed a groan. He sat back for a quick moment to pull off his tunic before descending upon Bilbo again, seizing his mouth with desire and tasting him with frenzy. 

Bilbo's hands moved down to Thorin's hips and he began to unbutton his trousers, but his hands momentarily staying. 

"I-Is this fine?" He asked, breath coming out in pants. Thorin nodded quickly. 

"If you do not resume I shall go mad!" Thorin grinned when Bilbo laughed quietly, a high pitched breathless giggle. With efficiency, Bilbo removed his trousers and smallclothes, sliding them off from his strong hips and down his sturdy thighs. Thorin shuffled out of them and kicked them away, hissing when the chilly air of the room hit his heated skin. Thorin struggled to undo Bilbo's breeches with one hand, using his other to keep himself braced above the hobbit's body. Thorin swore when the ability to unbutton anything evaded him, making Bilbo laugh again. He helped the dwarf, undoing his breeches, bringing up his hips and allowing Thorin to pull the clothing down and off his body. 

There was a moment where their movement stilled, and both were consumed with just looking at the other's body. Thorin's breath seemed to evade him as he gazed upon Bilbo, his intended the most beautiful being to have ever been placed on Middle Earth. The traditional beauty standards of dwarves did not apply to Bilbo, his absolute gorgeousness being otherworldly. His eyes locked with Bilbo's and the hobbit broke into an embarrassed grin, a breathless sound escaping his lips. Thorin couldn't help but grin back, mouth curled into a smile as he kissed Bilbo once more. 

Now exposed, Thorin rutted against Bilbo, their cocks slotting together in a delicious frenzy. Bilbo threw his head back and moaned, his fingers dragging down Thorin's back and digging at his skin. Thorin braced himself up on one elbow and reached between him and Bilbo, taking hold of their cocks and stroking the both of them. 

"You don't know how beautiful you are, Bilbo. Everything about you is stunning." Thorin kissed him roughly and pulled away. "You're so flustered." Thorin bit off this last word and went back to kissing the hobbit, mouth moving as he began to kiss his neck once more. His hand still pumped the two of them together and Bilbo was reduced to a moaning, shivering mess.

"Oh by the Valar," he panted. "Thorin, I'm close-

"Good, I want to see you come undone." Thorin lowered his voice and whispered into Bilbo's ear, his breath hot against the skin. Bilbo ran his fingers through Thorin's hair and tugged at the strands. He moaned into Thorin's mouth as they kissed and his breath hitched. Bilbo's fingers clutched the dwarf's back and his fingernails dug into his skin. Thorin quickened his pace and dipped his head down to nip at Bilbo's collar bone

Bilbo said Thorin's name over and over, whispering it as if it were some sacred chant. He whined and buried his face into the crook of Thorin's neck when he came, nails digging into the skin of his back. Thorin followed soon after, moaning lowly as his body went lax with bliss. They stayed like that for a moment, trying to catch their breath and gather some sort of hold on the world around them. Bilbo let out a shuddering breath as Thorin collapsed next to him and wrapped him in his arms, holding the hobbit's injured hand to his chest. 

"You're shaking." He murmured, and Bilbo puffed out a laugh. 

"I-I don't think I've ever had a climax like that. Quite thought I was going to faint." Thorin snickered and watched as Bilbo closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His damp curls stuck to his forehead and his cheeks and chest were flushed a deep pink, skin showing marks left by Thorin like a painter's canvas. 

"We ought to clean ourselves up." Thorin said, and Bilbo groaned, practically boneless in his arms. He let Thorin leave the bed nonetheless, groaning as he forced his tired body to do the slightest bit of activity. He grabbed a cloth from the water basin and cleaned himself before going back to the bed and handing it to Bilbo. The hobbit wiped himself off and moved to put the cloth back, allowing Thorin to pull back the blankets, which had miraculously made it out without a stain as far as Thorin could tell. Bilbo climbed back onto the bed, shuffling under the covers with a sigh as Thorin slid in next to him. 

Bilbo tucked his head beneath Thorin's chin, his face leaning against the dwarf's bare chest. They were both silent for a minute, before Bilbo spoke. 

"Please be careful, Thorin. I could not bear to live without you."

His words were so quiet, so full of desperation and anxiety that all Thorin could do was nod and hold him tighter. 

"I will not leave as long as you do not." He replied, pressing a kiss into his intended's curls. Bilbo nodded and swallowed tightly. 

"I love you. I love you so much." He whispered, the words muffled against Thorin's skin. The dwarf heard them nonetheless, and he closed his eyes as he curled his body around Bilbo's, a protective gesture driven by the most primal instinct. 

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever!! i actually wanted to have this fic done before the holidays were over but time got away from me and school got in the way and long story short, that obviously didn't happen. 
> 
> however i did see botfa and!!!! wow!!!! i cried a lot!!! 
> 
> but yeah so there should only be a few more chapters so if all goes according to planned so this will be wrapped up by the middle or end of february?? so yeah. the end is near.


	20. Chapter 20

Deep down, Bilbo had not carried hope for the winter.  

They were prepared, they knew the dangers it could bring and there were ways to combat it. Sweet Thorin, so in love and brave and ready to defend. Bilbo felt that he was selfish by being allowing himself to have this happiness in a time that would only bring grief and suffering to others, but foolishly, he continued on, driven by the belief that things would be fine. It hadn't been a cover at first, but a true hope that they would make it with only a few bumps. 

When it changed, Bilbo could not pinpoint. But the cold stirred up old memories and his loyalty in the cause cracked. It was with the first hobbit that died that Bilbo could scarcely look forward to a good winter, only being able to imagine one of death and sadness. 

His mother had always said he was good at predicting.

* * *

Hobbits were a cheerful race, well invested in a good time and parties, and Bilbo was no exception. He had been lacking in cheer a bit up until he met the company, but now he was as festive as ever.

The weather did not permit much of what stood as a tradition however, and that put a damper on his spirits. The Yuletide festival was performed every year, snow or no snow, but the winter proved too harsh for one this year. It saddened Bilbo exponentially to not have his favorite event growing up occur, and even more so to see that the winter was infringing upon them so badly. Much to his chagrin, he did indeed weep over it, sitting in his study and crying miserably into his hands. Thorin said nothing about his red eyes and they did not speak of it. 

Even if his disappointment went unspoken, that did not mean that the dwarves didn't know. It was hard to miss his wretched look when he realized the date and the way he glared at the snow. So of course, they set out to try and make his holiday the best it could be. 

* * *

"Say, Bilbo?" The hobbit looked up at the sound of his name and saw Kíli standing in the doorway of his study, cheeks still flushed from being outside in the snow, training. 

"Yes? Come stand by the fire, I can practically feel the cold air coming off of you." He said, beckoning to the dwarf. He grinned as he scampered in, putting his hands towards the flame and looking back at Bilbo. 

"So, it's gonna be Yule in two days."

"Indeed." Bilbo replied offhandedly, perusing a letter the Mayor of Michel Delving had sent him. It was filled with information he had received already from one source or another, so it required only slight attention. 

"What are we doing?"

"For what?"

"For  _Yule."_ He said in mock exasperation. "Don't you have any traditions or anything?"

"Well, yes." answered Bilbo. "But we can't do most of it on account of the snow."

"Well, what can we do?"

Bilbo turned around in his chair to look curiously at Kíli, his eyes narrowed. 

"Why do you want to know?" He asked slowly, watching as the dwarf's face seemed to light up even more. 

"Well, if you're not gonna do anything for it, us dwarves will just decorate Bag End ourselves."

"Oh. Well have fun with that." Bilbo replied, and he turned back around before he could see the dwarf's crestfallen expression. Kíli huffed a silent breath as he left the study, his scheming unbeknownst to the hobbit. 

It was not for another hour that Bilbo heard something that really caught his attention, or at least to make him leave the study and check. He was in the middle of reading another letter of request when there was the sound of Bag End's door slamming open, and a huge crash. It made him start, hand resting on his heart as the surprise wore off. There was a general buzz of noise in the front hall and curiosity got the best of him. Bilbo pushed back his chair and shivered slightly as the breeze that filtered inside as he came closer to the front of the smial. He nudged the members of the company aside as he struggled to get to the front and see what the commotion was all about. 

"What are you  _doing?!"_ He exclaimed, mouth hanging open as he watched Thorin and Dwalin. 

"Oh, Bilbo." Thorin wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Hello."

"Don't hello me!" He spluttered. "Why are you bringing a  _tree_  into here?!"

Indeed, a small evergreen tree lay in the foyer of Bag End, dusted with snow and leaving legions of pine needles in its wake. 

"Kíli said you didn't mind if we celebrated the Solstice our way. So we are."

"With a tree?! Thorin, I'll never get rid of all the needles!"

"Yes, that is the tradition." He replied smartly, smiling slightly and making Bilbo's exasperation flare. 

"Oh for the love of--no! No trees in here, and oh, close the door! I'm absolutely chilled!" Bilbo huffed and began to march back to his warm study. 

"So, are we celebrating the hobbit way then?" Thorin called after him, the grin on his face evident in his tone. Bilbo groaned in frustration and waved his hand. 

" _Yes!"_  He cried, and hurried off. 

* * *

 Though he wasn't quite ready to admit it, following Yuletide traditions lightened his heart and cleared his head a bit. Bilbo sat at the table with Fíli, Kíli and Dwalin, a bowl of popped corn in between them all and a needle with long strands of thread in their hands. Popcorn chains had been one of Bilbo's favorite traditions since he was a child, and now was no exception. It was rather nice to be able to do it with friends again, rather than all alone. 

"So, what do hobbits usually do for Yule?" Kíli asked, eyes trained down at his strand and a piece of popcorn in concentration. "It can't be just this."

Bilbo laughed. "No, it's more than this. Usually hobbits go out and gather boughs of holly to make wreaths, which we hang at the doors and windows. It's said to please Yavanna, as she can find green even in the worst winter." 

"What about mistletoe?" Fíli asked. "In dwarvish legend, it's said that Mahal first met his wife in a forest with mistletoe on the trees. He was going in there to chop down a tree for his great forge, but saw her and immediately fell in love."

"Yes, we have a similar tale here in the Shire." Bilbo replied. "Mistletoe is usually hung in the doorways. My mother used to go out every winter and spend a whole day gathering as much as she could, just so every possible doorway would be filled." 

"You ought to let Thorin know that. He's been waitin' on mistletoe since you two got together." Dwalin muttered, stringing the popcorn with startling efficiency. Fíli and Kíli snickered when Bilbo's cheeks flushed a bit, downcasting his eyes to just focus on the task at hand. 

"Yeah well, Ori hasn't stopped talking about it either. Looks like you got something coming yourself, Dwalin." Fíli sniped, grinning widely. Bilbo watched in surprise as he saw Dwalin's cheeks redden, before laughing aloud. 

"Oh, he's blushing! How sweet." Bilbo said, his face breaking into a huge smile. The dwarf simply grumbled under his breath and continued to string the popcorn onto the thread. 

"Many hobbits won't be able to give gifts this year though." Bilbo sighed. "All the snow is preventing them from getting the materials for toys for the fauntlings and other wares. Such a shame."

"Even if you don't have gifts, at least you have people to spend the holiday with." Fíli said, looking up from his work to smile at Bilbo. The hobbit nodded and made a tender expression. 

"Very true. I suppose that's the greatest gift one can have, hm?" 

"Ach, cut the mushy stuff." Dwalin muttered, tying off the end of his chain and standing up. "By Mahal, it's like poetry." 

Bilbo snorted as Fíli and Kíli snickered to themselves. Dwalin lumbered off to busy himself with something else as the front door opened, and the sounds of the rest of the company filled the smial. 

"We're back!" Came Thorin's shout, called over the commotion of the other dwarves. 

"Take off your boots! I don't want snow and water all over the floors!" Bilbo called back. There was the shifting and scratching sounds of plants that came nearer as the dwarves filed in and Bilbo sighed. 

"You better not have brought in another tree." He warned, resisting the urge to smile when Thorin came up behind him and kissed the top of his head. 

"Of course not. I asked Hamfast what plants to gather and foraged accordingly." He replied, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Bilbo's shoulder. The hobbit smiled and turned his head to look at him, accepting the gentle kiss that Thorin bestowed upon him. 

"Smart dwarf. I'll help you arrange it all." Bilbo rose from his seat and turned to the rest of the company. "If any of you would like to make popcorn chains, take a seat. Please don't eat all the materials if not though!"

There was a general rumble of knowing laughter as Bilbo and Thorin gathered up what had been found by the dwarves and they drifted off to do what they pleased. With 9 dwarves looking, they had gathered what would've taken Belladonna a whole day in less than an hour. Bilbo led Thorin into the parlor and sorted out the mistletoe for him, giving him the job of hanging it in the doorways. 

"Just take the ribbon and cut it, then tie it around the top of the bunch." Bilbo instructed, handing Thorin the small blade he used for various crafts. Bilbo wove the holly into wreaths as he watched Thorin, lips curling into an amused smirk. 

"Can't you make it pretty?" He asked, laughing when Thorin balked at him. 

"Pretty! Bilbo, it's a bunch of plants and ribbon!"

"And," he began. "Very pretty if you try." 

Snickering, Bilbo took the ribbon and mistletoe from Thorin, showing him how to do it. The dwarf grumbled to himself. 

"You make it look easy. Dwarves aren't made for such delicate work."

"Dwalin seemed to be able to make popcorn chains without much complaint, so maybe it's just you." He teased, laughing when Thorin rolled his eyes. 

"I'm only kidding. Make it look however you want, it'll look lovely irregardless." Bilbo leaned forward to peck Thorin on the lips before settling back onto the floor and resuming the making of his wreath. They sat in silence through it all, kept company by their lack of words and the bits of conversation they could hear from the other dwarves. It seemed as though most of them had stayed in the kitchen, presumably eating the popcorn despite Bilbo's wishes. Before Yule, the thought of wasting such and important grain would've made him flinch, but it appeared that the season was getting to him. He was oddly comforted by the old tradition, making him feel as though the world of danger and uncertainty was not so close after all, no matter how much snow lay upon the ground. 

"What was it like being with elves so often when you were younger?" Thorin suddenly asked, breaking the silence between them. Bilbo looked up in surprise, having never expected for him to be curious of such a subject. 

"Why?"

"Just wondering. I'm curious." Thorin replied, not looking up from his work. Bilbo's eyes drifted back down, fingers continuing to work the holly. 

"It's like any childhood really. I went fairly often, so I suppose it was like visiting extended family. Now, I went to Rivendell, which was the realm of Lord Elrond. His two sons were a pair of troublemakers, let me tell you. Very smart, but mischievous. Similar to Fíli and Kíli."

"Mahal help us." Thorin muttered, making Bilbo snort in amusement. 

"His daughter was very nice though. Lovely young lady, even though I didn't get to see her very much. She lived with her grandparents, if I remember correctly."

"When was the last time you saw any of them?" Thorin asked. Bilbo froze up, his hands stilling as he searched his mind for an answer. 

"Not in a very long time." He replied slowly. "A few years before my father died, at least. Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter, haven't seen her since I was probably 10 or 11."

"Do you miss them?" Thorin asked softly, and Bilbo inhaled sharply. He busied himself with the holly, not meeting the dwarf's eyes. 

"Let's not talk about this anymore. I shan't be able to see them anytime soon."

"I would bring you to Rivendell if you wished it." Thorin interjected, his voice firm. Bilbo shook his head. 

"Enough, please. Just leave it be." Bilbo nearly begged. He could tell that Thorin wanted to know what bothered him so much, but he didn't have the heart to continue talking about it. The elves of Rivendell were very dear friends, but they had never shown after the death of either of his parents, with not a letter to boot, and it ate away at Bilbo, even if he would not admit it. Talking of them made him think of a better time, and he would rather leave the past in the past, thank you very much. 

Silence seemed to suit them better, and as such they remained with it. Bilbo felt guilty for being so brisk, but he reasoned that Thorin must've grown used to his occasional upset. Surely, there were things Thorin would refuse to talk about! He had no reason to feel any remorse. 

"I'm sorry." He muttered nonetheless. Thorin simply shook his head with a flickering smile. 

"Think nothing of it,  _ghivashel_."

* * *

The two nights of Yule were festive and delightful, marked by a level of contentment that Bilbo hadn't experienced in several months. Though the holiday was not its usual splendor, lacking in gifts or lavish parties, Bilbo was perfectly happy with it. Popcorn chains, wreaths and mistletoe decorated the smial, and Bilbo came to realize just how many schemes Thorin could think up to get them stuck in a doorway together. The first night hosted a dinner that was bigger than usual, quite near to the more extensive meals Bilbo had made in the summer and fall. There were no gifts exchanged, but stories were given in their stead. They all sat in the parlor, warmed by a hearty fire as tales of Solstice past and other accounts were given. There were no watches that night, an order having been put out by the Thain to remain indoors until sunrise for the two days of the holiday. 

The second night was even better than the first, marked by the sumptuous meal Bilbo and Bombur prepared. The two spent all day preparing it, from dwarvish dishes to classical hobbit fare. Succulent meat, hearty potatoes, and roasted vegetables graced the table, as well as a delectable chocolate cake that had been made from one of Bombur's family recipes. The dwarf had it memorized, whipping up the treat in no time. The Gamgees were invited over to eat, and soon the table was filled, the dining room itself threatening to burst. As they all settled in, Bilbo allowed himself to look around and breathe, simply taking in the sight of his dearest friends being safe and healthy. They were all a bit thinner and paler than they had been, but with good food on the table and a roaring fire casting a warm orange glow on their skin, Bilbo couldn't bring himself to give it any thought. 

Bilbo and Thorin sat on one side of the table at they ate, legs pressed together from calf to thigh due to the lack of overall space. The closeness made them both happy however, no matter how many times their elbows knocked when trying to take more of a dish. 

As Bilbo reached to grab a roll of bread, he felt the braid in his hair shift, slipping from behind his ear and falling into clearer view. 

"Mist'r Bilbo, wha's tha'?" Hamson asked, his mouth filled with food. His chubby little hand reached out to point at the braid and bead, which gleamed in the firelight. Bilbo gingerly tucked it back behind his ear, smiling sheepishly. 

"Oh, it's just a braid. Thorin put it in my hair."

"Aren't braids for girls?" The fauntling questioned, looking at the dwarves around him in scrutiny. 

"Nonsense, young hobbit. Many dwarves wear braids, no matter their gender." Balin said, smiling kindly. Hamson paused for a moment, thinking it over. 

"Can I have a braid?" 

The dwarves laughed at the hobbit's easy acceptance of the tradition. Hamfast chuckled and patted his son's back. 

"Finish your supper, and then ask again." He said, and Bilbo watched with a smile as the fauntling dug into his food with a renewed commitment. 

Following supper, then dessert, Bilbo and Thorin remained in the kitchen, washing up the dishes while Bell stood there talking to them. 

"So, are braids some sort of courting tradition among dwarves then?" She asked, taking a peek at Bilbo's again. Thorin chuckled and nodded. 

"Indeed. When a courtship reaches a certain stage, a braid is placed in one's hair." 

"Did Bilbo do one for you?" 

Thorin smiled slightly and shook his head. "Alas, no. He was too worried about it coming out looking silly, so we agreed on him abiding by hobbit traditions, and myself going by dwarvish ones." 

Bilbo's ears heated, and his face flushed. "Oh hush, you weren't supposed to tell anyone." 

Bell laughed, the sound high and merry. "You two are too cute. How soon until the ceremony?"

"Bell!" Bilbo protested, staring at her with his mouth agape. 

"What ceremony?" Thorin asked curiously, looking between the two of them. 

"Pay it no mind--" Bilbo began to say, but was cut off as Bell went on to explain. 

"Well, hobbit courtships are usually quite short, you see. The ceremony, well, that's just another word for  _marriage_ , really. Usually happens within a few months, and I just figured since you two have practically been courting since the summer--"

"Oh, I need to change the bandages on my hand! Excuse me!" Bilbo said, rushing from the kitchen. It wasn't a complete lie; he had gotten the bandages a bit dirty from dinner and washing the dishes. But the audacity of her! Bilbo was horribly embarrassed by the whole subject of marriage. Why, he and Thorin had been in a courtship scarcely two months, which was already  _incredibly_  short in dwarvish standards if Dwalin and Ori's own relationship was anything to go by. They had been courting for more than two years already! Oh, bebother the combination of their two races! 

Bilbo closed the door to the bathroom and began to dig through the wicker chest he kept in there, locating the salves he had been using and the cloth bandages. He winced slightly as he unwrapped the old covering, the skin around the bite having turned an angry red in the days since. He had been cleaning it as he should, but it seemed reluctant to heal. It didn't look infected though, so Bilbo simply put more salve on, and covered the bite again. 

Sitting down on the floor, Bilbo repressed a sigh. He would be lying to say that he hadn't been thinking about a marriage ceremony. It was done among two males as often as not, so while some might look down upon them for it, they would have just as much support. With Thorin's stature included, Bilbo also doubted that they would have much in the way of blatant outcry as it was. 

But who was to say Thorin even wanted a marriage ceremony? Being someone's One seemed to be a very big deal, but what if there was some sort of reason why the two of them could not be married? Dwarves were always painted as being wary of outsiders, what if there were laws that forbid the marriage of two races? Bilbo felt wretched disappointment well up inside his heart at the thought. 

His head jerked up when there came a knock at the door, and Thorin softly calling his name. 

"Bilbo, are you alright?"

"Yes, quite fine! Just, just checking my hand is all." He scrambled off the floor and opened the door, giving Thorin the best smile he could manage. The dwarf returned it but did not move, expecting something. Bilbo looked up and shook his head. 

"You hung no mistletoe here."

"Well, I do believe it isn't hard to imagine there is." He replied smartly, coming down and giving Bilbo a gentle kiss. Bilbo chuckled against his mouth. 

"Silly dwarf..." He muttered, laying his head down upon his chest when the kiss broke. Thorin reached down and grabbed his hand, peering at it in concern. 

"Is it any better?" He asked. Bilbo sighed. 

"Not by much. It's still red, and a bit tender."

Thorin made a noise in displeasure. "You should let Oín take a look."

"No, I'm fine. It'll heal in time, no worries." He told him. Thorin didn't look convinced, so Bilbo kissed him. "Trust me."

"I don't have much of a choice either way." He grumbled. Bilbo grinned and laughed. 

"Very right."

* * *

A few hours later, the Gamgees went on their way, the children asleep and the parents exhausted. Bilbo stayed awake with his dwarves, bringing out a keg of ale and delving into it. They were all crowded around the table, as close as possible as they laughed and grinned in buzzed foolishness. Bilbo watched and snickered as Fíli and Kíli knocked foreheads before taking massive swigs of their drinks, trying to tip back as much as they could. He hummed under his breath, head moving slightly to the drinking song that was coming to mind. Thorin, rosy cheeked and eyes glittering with mirth looked at him, smiling even wider as he watched Bilbo sway to his own tune. 

"Have you a drinking song?" 

Bilbo, his normally modest senses dulled by the ale, nodded. "Of course!"

"Oh, Bilbo has a tune! Go on, sing it then!" Bofur encouraged, having overheard and and seen him. Bilbo flushed slightly, shaking his head. 

"Oh no--"

"Ah, come on!"

"Yeah Bilbo, sing! Do it!"

"Put him up on the table!"

Spurred on by his friends, Bilbo found himself shakily clambering on top of the table, nimble feet avoiding kicking their drinks. He looked down upon them, an odd feeling indeed. Bilbo took in a breath, his face split with a grin. 

"There's an inn," He began. "There's an inn, there's a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill, and there they brew a beer so brown, that the Man in the Moon came down one night to drink his fill!"

The song itself was a popular one, known by many across Middle Earth. The company themselves knew it, and began to sing along, clapping and whistling as Bilbo began a clumsy jig, kicking his feet out and dancing on the table. 

"The ostler has a tipsy cat that plays a five stringed fiddle; and up and down he saws his bow! Now squeaking  _high,_ now purring  _low,_ now sawing in the middle!"

"So the cat on the fiddle played hey diddle diddle," they sang merrily, "a jig that would wake the dead! He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune, and the landlord shook the Man in the Moon!" 

"It's after three, he said!" The dwarves cut off and cheered and laughed as Bilbo finished the song, his face flushed red from joy. Shakily, he was helped back off the table, receiving swats to his back and legs as thanks for his performance. Thorin held his hand as he clambered back down, sitting heavily upon the bench when his feet touched the ground once more. He leaned his head against Thorin's arm and closed his eyes, soaking up the good vibes of his company as they set off with a drinking song of their own. 

"Come on." Thorin muttered into his ear, beard brushing against his skin and sending a delicious shiver down his spine. Clumsily, their limbs slowed by drunkenness, they left the kitchen, laughing as their friends shouted lewd and bawdy things after them. They were scarcely out of sight before Thorin had his hands at Bilbo's hips, his lips brushing over the hobbits'. Bilbo laughed softly as he kissed Thorin, lips pressing against his cheek, then the corner of his mouth before finally reaching the soft pink skin of his mouth. Bilbo pulled him into another kiss, and this time Thorin took the initiative to deepen it. He angled his head and Bilbo turned to meet it, wrapping his arms around Thorin's neck. Using his size to his advantage, Thorin backed Bilbo up until he hit the closest wall, then seized the chance to pull their bodies even closer than before. Bilbo let out a breathy moan when Thorin's hands tangled in his curls and gently toyed with the pointed tips of his ears. He shied away from the touch nonetheless, groaning. 

"Thorin, not here. I'm much to drunk for this." He protested. Thorin huffed a breath and put his face into the crook of Bilbo's neck, inhaling deeply. 

"You wish not to do anything?"

"Not particularly."

"Might we at least kiss? You've a mouth sweeter than any treat."

"That's the cheesiest thing you've ever said." Bilbo giggled, a high, shrill sound that surely would have embarrassed him had he been sober. "Kissing though, yes. I'm quite up for that." 

Thorin grinned against his neck and pressed his lips to the skin before pulling away and nearly yanking Bilbo from the wall, pulling him away and towards their bedroom. Bilbo snorted and laughed as they went, his body limp and pliant with good feelings. 

Thorin did not seem to be in such a rush when they made it inside the room and the door was closed, simply kissing Bilbo gently with little, fluttering touches. It was nice to be treated as if he were something precious, and Bilbo basked in the attention. He darted away from Thorin, laughing to himself as he ran and launched himself onto his bed. Thorin stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck, but smiled again when Bilbo turned to him on the bed and opened his arms. 

Perhaps it was the late hour, or maybe the ale, but neither Bilbo nor Thorin stayed awake for very long after that. They fell asleep in each others' arms, Bilbo's arms wrapped around Thorin's neck and Thorin's around his hobbit's waist. They were covered by the quilt Bilbo normally kept at the end of the bed, warmed by each others' bodies. Bilbo did not dream that night, his mind clear and free of any thoughts. 

* * *

It was early the next morning, scarcely even considered to be such. The sun had not yet risen, and it was dark and frigid outside. Bilbo found himself inexplicably awake, no reason for his consciousness. His head pounded from lack of sleep, having not accumulated nearly enough hours of sleep following the drinking last night. He lay in Thorin's arms for a minute, groggy and feeling too lazy to move. 

But suddenly he heard it, a frantic knocking at the front door. Fear sunk into Bilbo's bones and his breath left his body, icy dread filling his veins. No one ever came to his door this early without good reason, much less in this sort of winter. He breathed in sharply and steeled himself as he crawled from the bed, groping about in the dark as he searched for the door. He grabbed his dressing gown off the back of it, still wearing his clothes from the day previous. 

The knocking continued as Bilbo hurried himself out of the bedroom and towards the front of the smial, seeming to become more and more incessant. Bilbo stopped at the door, his breathing shallow as he stared at it. His chest felt tight, like there was something heavy loged in it. The knocking suddenly stopped, and in his burst of courageousness, his hand flew out and he pulled the door open. 

"Foolish Bilbo! How hard is it to open a door?"

"Gandalf!" He exclaimed, eyes wide as he took in the wizard. He looked no different from last he saw him, frenzied and with a goal in mind. The wizard swept inside, bringing a gust of chilly air that had Bilbo shivering as he hurried to close the door.

"Where have you been? Why Gandalf, it's been months! You've been needed!"

"The Shire is not in shambles, so it couldn't have been that bad." He said dismissively, taking his hat off his head and ridding it of some snow. "Put on some tea, there's a good lad. It's quite cold out and there's much to talk about!"

"Oh yes, of course. Right that way." Bilbo mumbled, staring dumbstruck as Gandalf went right off to the kitchen. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he followed the wizard, smiling sheepishly when Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the mess left by the dwarves the night previous. 

"Oh, just ah, let me clean up a bit." He said, gathering the cups that were strewn across the table and carrying them over to the sink. Gandalf set to bringing light in the room, snapping his fingers and lighting the nearby candles with the small flame that formed. Bilbo took a cloth and wiped down the table, watching his old friend as he sat down. 

"Would it be any good to ask where you've been these past few months?" 

"Perhaps later." Gandalf answered. "But there are more important things to speak of now. Take a seat, Bilbo."

"Ah, but the tea--"

"Oh yes, go ahead then. You will need something to wake you up. Especially after what sort of night you seemed to have had."

Bilbo flushed as he set to making the warm drink, hurrying the process as much as he could. He was very curious to what Gandalf had to tell him, as well as why it took him so long to get back, or what even took him away in the first place. 

The wizard seemed to be deep in thought as Bilbo took out two cups, not paying attention as Bilbo stared at him. A few minutes passed and the kettle began to boil, whistling low and becoming progressively higher. Bilbo tore his eyes from the wizard as he made their tea, watching the steam curl and dissipate as it flowed up from the cups. 

"Two cups of tea. Watch out, it's quite hot." Bilbo said, bringing it over. Gandalf muttered his thanks but didn't look at his cup, completely ignoring its presence. 

"So." Bilbo began. "What news do you bring?"

"News indeed." Gandalf said. "What do you know of the world, Bilbo? Outside of your books, what have you ever truly experienced?"

The hobbit was taken aback at the wizard's brashness. "Well I--"

"You know nothing, my dear boy. The Shire, for all it's terrible happenings sometimes, is the safest place I have ever found myself in. The most dangerous thing here are hobbits themselves."

"Gandalf, I don't--"

"I've encountered countless tyrants, monsters out of every nightmare and seen the unthinkable happen. Yet nothing strikes as much fear into my heart as what looms over this land. Bilbo, you must have courage through it all." Gandalf spoke, his message as cryptic as ever. Dread began to creep into Bilbo once more and he looked at his friend warily. 

"Gandalf, what do you speak of? Tell me. You're frightening me."

"It is times like these I am glad you have Thorin Oakenshield. He is a good dwarf, and will serve you well." Gandalf was avoiding all of Bilbo's questions, irritating the hobbit. He breathed in deeply, nostrils flaring. 

"Gandalf, tell me what you know."

The wizard was silent, his eyes boring into Bilbo's. The uninterrupted attention madr Bilbo squirm, shifting nervously in his seat. Gandalf may have been old, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of a deep, hard set power, and it unnerved him. 

"I have been to the kingdom of Erebor, and learned something that will bring you no joy."

Bilbo's heart stuttered in his chest. "Is it about Thorin?"

"Yes. It is because of him."

"What, what is?" Bilbo asked frantically. His hands began to shake, the bite on his hand throbbing. Gandalf sighed. 

"There is an army of Orcs headed this way. They will be here in perhaps two, three days time, if you are lucky. Your dwarf does not know it, but they are coming to hunt him down and kill him. There is a bounty in his head, and a hefty one at that. His very presence has put you, and the rest of the Shire in grave danger."

Bilbo's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He felt blank, like a slate cleared of all writing. Thorin, he was in danger. Very, very bad danger. Worse, he bringing upon the Shire the wrath of the scum of Middle Earth and he didn't even know it. He wished to save them but was the reason certain death was imminent. 

"How...how do you know all this?" He finally croaked, looking up at Gandalf with the hope that it was all a cruel, meaningless joke. The wizard's face was sad, pitiful. 

"I heard it from the very dwarf who made a deal with an Orc leader. Erebor was in shambles, Bilbo, and Thorin's journey to his old home was the final straw. I daresay that if he had stayed home, his chances of living would've been higher." 

"Oh gods." Bilbo said, his voice raw as panic began to take over. "Oh Yavanna above, no. No, no, this can't be happening. Gandalf, we're lucky to be surviving this winter! And now, now this! We'll all be slaughtered!"

"There is an army of dwarves headed here. The ruler of Erebor has fallen, and his heir has taken the throne. Daín, he's a much more sensible sort. We can only hope that they will arrive in time."

Bilbo's chest felt tight, his head dizzy and all air escaping his lungs. He gripped the table, his fingernails digging into the wood. 

"The Thain." He choked out. "Grandfather must know at once. We must--" Bilbo resisted the urge to be sick, squeezing his eyes shut and drawing in a ragged breath. "We must tell him! Everyone must know!"

"Indeed." Gandalf agreed, inexplicably calm as there was a sudden rapping at the door. The wizard avoided his eyes, staring down into the rapidly cooling cup of tea. "That'll be the door."

"Yes. Yes." Bilbo said, dragging himself up and towards the foyer. His hands trembled as he opened the door, the knocking as loud as a hammer in his ears. He pulled open the door to see the young lad that had come to him that early morning weeks ago, bringing news of the hobbit that was dead by the jaws of a wolf. 

"M-Mister Baggins." He said, and Bilbo watched in muted horror as he sniffled. He couldn't bear this, he couldn't hear anything else. No more loss, no more tragedy. Please, he prayed to the Valar, heart thudding. Please let it be alright. 

The lad's words washed over him, and he felt like he was underwater, clawing for air as the fire of breathlessness filled his lungs. He nodded slowly, blinking at the news. 

"Yes. I see. Thank...thank you for telling me." He said to the boy blankly, turning away as the youngster sniffled again and wiped at his eyes. He closed the door slowly and quietly, sinking back against the cold wood. He said there for what felt like hours, though scarcely a few minutes passed. Then he heard footsteps, the heavy ones of the dwarf he loved. Thorin came down the hall, scratching at his stomach and yawning. 

"Bilbo, who was that?" He asked, oblivious to the news his One had just received. At the hobbit's silence his relaxed nature faded, and was replaced with a more alert one. Bilbo lifted himself away from the door and took a few shuffling footsteps towards him, stopping when Thorin came forward and gently grabbed his shoulders in concern. 

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked quietly, trying to get the hobbit to look at him. Bilbo's head lifted, and he drew in a shuddering breath as their eyes met. "What is it?"

"My grandfather." He said, voice cracking as his head shook in disbelief. "He's dead." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about the drinking song: in lotr when frodo sings it, it's said that bilbo made it up, but i really liked the idea of all the dwarves knowing it the way they did in the scene in auj, so that's why i made it the way i did. 
> 
> also whenever i write about bilbo making tea, i imagine him using tea bags or a tea infuser because if he can have matches, then he sure as hell can have some god damn paper sacks to put tea leaves in
> 
> in addition, i don't really see dwarves as celebrating with christmas trees. instead, i imagined that thorin had seen some men do it at some point or another, and knew it was just the thing to get on bilbo's nerves


	21. Chapter 21

Thorin knew he had a temper. He knew that he jumped to conclusions and got angry when he had no business being so.  

His mother said it was because he was so protective, and his father said it was simply because he was a dwarf. Both things were out of his control, so he never really learned to manage his temper as he should've. 

Meeting Bilbo was the one thing that cooled his fiery attitude, making him less likely to snap at a moment's notice. He found that as time went on, and he spent more time with the hobbit, falling so desperately in love, he took on Bilbo's easy going outlook on life, learning to let go. He was a happier dwarf because of it, there was no doubt about it.

But no amount of time spent with his hobbit could prevent Thorin from feeling an inexplicable sense of rage when he looked into the broken eyes of Bilbo, having just learned of his Grandfather's death. Thorin was sad of course; he had quite liked Gerontius. But he still felt red hot anger flare up inside of him. It was out of the old hobbit's control, but Thorin was still furious with him for dying. Bilbo was in a delicate state already, stressed by the worries of the winter. The death of his beloved grandfather was just what Thorin feared, the possible breaking point in his resilient Bilbo Baggins. 

* * *

"Oh, Bilbo." Thorin breathed, mouth slightly agape as he struggled to find words. The hobbit was still beneath his hands, scarcely even breathing. He did not reply and Thorin found himself at a loss. He had barely been able to comfort Bilbo after the death of a hobbit neither of them knew; how could he ever manage this?

He glanced around and noticed a staff sitting against the wall, familiar in a vague sort of way. Why did Bilbo have that?

Without a word, Bilbo broke away from him, eyes downcast as he trudged off towards the kitchen. Thorin followed him, whispering his name in worry. 

"He's dead." Bilbo said suddenly. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, hand resting on the wall for support. "Grandfather is dead."

"I see." An old voice spoke, and Thorin hurried forward to look inside the kitchen. 

"You!" He said, staring at Gandalf. The staff now made sense, it was that blasted wizard! Before he could say more, Bilbo spoke. 

"I see?" He echoed. His voice began to lose its hollowness, taking on a more biting edge. "My grandfather, and your friend--how can you just say, 'I see'?"

"He was old. Oldest hobbit yet." Gandalf said, not looking at Bilbo. Thorin felt his breath quicken, enraged by the dismissive remark. 

"You knew." Bilbo said, his voice hard, angry and incredulous. "You knew! He was dying and  _you knew_! You utter  _bastard!"_  Bilbo shouted, his eyes wide as his fists balled up at his sides. "How dare you show your face around here?!"

"I needed to warn you." He said simply. There was a split second where Thorin caught the snap in Bilbo's temper. He could see the hobbit's breath catch, his whole body tense. Thorin had been around enough anger to know when someone was ready to attack, and Bilbo was. 

"You mad bastard!" Bilbo screamed, and Thorin wrapped his arms around the hobbit before he could throw himself at the wizard. Bilbo squirmed and fought against Thorin, a cry ripping its way out of his throat. "I  _hate_  you, you  _despicable_  wizard! This is your fault! You  _knew,_ and did  _nothing_!" Bilbo pounded his fists against Thorin's arms, thrashing about in his anger. The dwarf watched in shock as Bilbo broke down, a harsh sob welling up and bursting out, raw as the sadness inside him. A momentary lapse in his grip, brought on by concern allowed Bilbo to break free, pushing Thorin away as he fled from the kitchen. Bilbo was rushing outside before Thorin could stop him, slamming the door harshly. The dwarf flinched, his heart thudding in his chest. Gandalf remained silent through it all, staring into a cup of tea. Thorin watched him in disbelief, taken utterly aback by his calm demeanor. 

"How can you be so cruel?" Thorin asked, staring at the wizard with wide eyes. 

"I did not know of his death. Bilbo is mistaken." Gandalf told him, finally rising to his own defense. Thorin sneered, enraged by the wizard's attitude. 

"Why do you tell me that? I am not the one who needs to know!"

"Bilbo was already upset." Gandalf said flippantly. "He needed to blow off steam."

"He just lost his grandfather." Thorin bit out. "He needs a friend!"

"Then why did you not follow him?" Gandalf countered, turning to look at him. "I obviously cannot be the friend he needs nor wants, but what about you?"

Thorin found himself at a loss for words. "I…He would not want me."

"Then perhaps he does  _not_  need a friend. I have known Bilbo much longer than you have, Thorin Oakenshield. Do not doubt my actions." 

"Why are you here?" Thorin demanded. "You must bring news, or surely you would not have arrived so early." 

"That it true. I bring news for you, first and foremost. But there is also news for the Shire. Which would you like to know?"

"News for me?" Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Why would you bring anything for me?"

"Why indeed." Gandalf said mildly, still looking at him. 

Thorin licked his lips, indecisive. "Which one does Bilbo know?"

"He knows of the news for the Shire. The two are interlinked however, and it would do him good to know the other. Do you wish to tell him?"

"I cannot tell him something I do not know." 

"Indeed." Gandalf agreed. "I have been to the kingdom of Erebor. Your old home."

Thorin inhaled sharply, pressing his mouth into a tight line at the mention of the place. "What do you know?"

"King Fror is dead. Dead by his own hand. It is now his heir that rules."

"What...What does that have to do with the Shire?" Thorin forced himself to ask, before the wizard could tell him anymore. 

"Before his death, it appeared that he had sunk low enough to make a deal with an Orc leader. When you were ambushed after fleeing Erebor those many years ago, it was by his doing. Your trip to Erebor had alerted him to your presence, and in his fear, he was able to get Warg Riders to follow you. They've found you here in the Shire, Thorin. There is an army of Orcs headed this way."

"Mahal above..." Thorin breathed, eyes sinking to the ground. He could hardly breathe, so stunned by the news. He shook his head, inhaling raggedly. 

"My journey was harmless. I wished to see the kingdom once more, not cause some kind of coup."

"Perhaps that was your intention." Gandalf replied mildly. "But it does not matter. What's done is done."

"The hobbits cannot survive an orc raid!" Thorin hissed. His mind was racing, thinking of some way he could prevent this. There had to be  _something!_  

"The new ruler of Erebor was kind enough to send an army of his own." The wizard told him, making Thorin sigh in relief. "I just hope they arrive in time."

"What have I done?" Thorin muttered in disbelief, shaking his head. He sunk down to the floor, staring at his hands. "I've brought this upon them all. Upon Bilbo."

"You did nothing with the intent to harm." Gandalf said kindly. He rose from his seat and went over to Thorin, staring down at the broken dwarf. "You must be strong through this, Thorin. Bilbo will need someone by his side, perhaps 13 someones. The Thain is gone, and he will need someone to help him command. Do not fall to grieving, Thorin. Stand strong, and be the dwarf you were meant to be."

"I cannot be as they hoped. I was not raised so." Thorin whispered, looking up at the wizard. Gandalf shook his head. 

"I knew your grandfather, Thorin. You are already more than he would've ever dreamed of. You've done with loss what many could not, and you will make it through this because of it. Rise, Thorin, son of Thrain. There is much to be done!"

* * *

 

It was perhaps half an hour later when Bilbo returned, and the first course of action Thorin took was keeping him away from Gandalf. He had hope that once the wizard told him the truth, Bilbo would forgive him and they would be able to speak. But for now, it was best that they remain seperated. 

The door opened quietly, and Thorin only knew Bilbo was back by the muffled cough that followed. He couldn't have been feeling well after spending that long outside, especially without a coat! 

"There you are." Thorin said, relief flowing through him. He came up quickly, and pulled Bilbo into a tight hug. The hobbit seemed stunned, but wrapped his arms back around Thorin anyways. 

"I'm sorry for running out." He whispered. Thorin shook his head, and gently kissed Bilbo's temple. 

"There is nothing to apologize for. Come, you need to lay down. You're absolutely freezing." Bilbo went without a fight, holding onto Thorin's arm as they walked. Thorin was not lying when he told Bilbo he was chilled. Even through the thick fabric of his sleep tunic, Thorin could feel the coldness of his hands. He looked down at the hobbit with sympathy, imagining what he must be feeling. 

Fíli and Kíli were awake when Thorin opened the door to Bilbo's bedroom, their own door creaking slightly as they peeked out. Thorin had no doubt that the rest of the company was probably some degree of awake as well, but concealed their curiosity far better than his nephews. 

Bilbo shuffled over to the bed as Thorin began to get a fire going, having neglected to ever make one the night before. He squinted in the darkness, adding kindling and lighting a match. The coal set aflame first, with a quick burst that warmed his face. He stood up and stared into the embers for a moment, just breathing. 

"Gandalf says he did not know of your Grandfather's death." He said. Bilbo nodded as he took off his dressing gown. 

"I...I figured out that he would've been unable to. Perhaps he knew that Grandfather was dying, but he is no great wizard. He wouldn't have been able to save him."

"I'm sorry." Thorin told him, for it was all he could think to say. Bilbo's eyes remained downcast, fixated on the floor as he sat on the edge on the bed. 

"I know." 

"Here now, lay down." Thorin said, and he walked over to the bed. Bilbo moved and laid himself out, head hitting the pillow with a sigh. Thorin sat on the corner of the bed and gently took his feet, holding them against his body and feeling the cold seep from them.

"Your feet are like ice." He muttered. "That's what you get for not wearing shoes."

Bilbo didn't crack a smile. "You're warming them up. I think I'll manage."

Thorin was silent as his hands worked to massage warmth back into the hobbit's toes. He looked over Bilbo, watching as he stared across the room at the wall. He seemed slowed down, his blinks slow and far between and his breathing so lazy that Thorin could hardly see it. 

"Where did you go?" He asked. Bilbo avoided his eyes. 

"I walked around."

"For that long?"

"Yes." 

Thorin continued to rub his feet, fingers being tickled by the curly hair on top and his palm pressing against the thick, leathery skin of his soles. He had never paid much attention to Bilbo's feet, even though they were one of the most distinct hobbit characteristics. He had noticed that Bilbo usually kept the hair neatly combed, but now it messy and damp, bits of snow sticking to it. 

"Why do you not sleep?" He questioned. Bilbo shrugged. 

"I don't want to." 

"But you need it." He argued. "You were out in the cold with hardly anything on. You'll end up ill."

"I can take care of myself, thank you." Bilbo snapped. He yanked his feet away and hid them beneath the blanket, pressing his mouth into a tight line. Thorin watched him for a moment, feeling hopeless. He sighed as he got up off the bed, going over to the fireplace to coax the flame into a larger blaze. He listened to the crackling of the wood and added two logs, watching the fire lick at the undersides of them and burn. 

"I'll be in the kitchen. Call if you need me." He told Bilbo, turning to look at the hobbit. Thorin caught a small nod, but Bilbo neither opened his mouth nor looked at him. Thorin sighed again before leaving the room, and leaving Bilbo to his own devices. 

Fíli and Kíli practically jumped on him as soon as he exited the room, eyes wide with worry and curiosity. 

"Uncle, what's happened?" 

"Who's here? Is it that wizard fellow?"

"Did he do something to Bilbo? Oh, I'll kill him!"

"Peace, you two, please." He sighed. "Come, back into your room. I shall tell you there, and you can use your gossip skills for good. I would've liked to tell the company myself, but there are other matters at hand."

Thorin herded his nephews back into their room and closed the door behind them. The room was messy, to say the least. Fíli and Kíli had never cared much for a clean sleeping space, and neither of their parents had enforced the habit of keeping it so. As long as the two of them helped to keep the rest of the house back home clean, Dís and Víli couldn't care less about how bad their shared bedroom ended up. 

Thorin kicked a tunic that lay on the floor. "I'm surprised Bilbo hasn't been in here to clean. Not even once, from the looks of it." 

"He doesn't care." Fíli asserted happily. 

"Unlike you. Take a lesson from him, Uncle." Kíli sniped, grinning. Thorin rolled his eyes and grabbed both of their collars, gently shoving them to sit on their bed. They were smart lads, and could sense the unease in his grip. The grins faded and were replaced with seriousness, their twin stares focused upon him. 

"Bilbo's grandfather has died. He received news this morning of it." Thorin told them, and watched with an aching heart to see their faces crumple slightly with sadness. Fíli and Kíli's friendliness was their downfall, and they all too often held everyone they met close to their heart. They'd met the Thain three times, but it was enough. 

"Did he go peacefully? It must've been from old age, right?" Kíli asked, voice quiet. Thorin sighed. 

"I do not know. Bilbo only informed me of his passing, and nothing more. I doubt that he would want to talk about it now, so there are no answers I can give you."

"How is he?" Fíli questioned tentatively. "He...he didn't look too good when you brought him into your room." 

"I wish I could give a simple answer." Thorin said. "Bilbo was not ready for this loss. This is a very hard time for him, and now he's lost his greatest confidant for the matters of this winter. No doubt he's worrying about that, as well as...as well as the news that dratted wizard has brought him."

"What news?" The brothers asked together. Thorin had grown used to their second nature of talking as a pair, and hardly blinked. 

"It is no easy matter to explain. You must listen very carefully," he warned. "One wrong detail and I'll only have a mess to deal with."

"Of course. You have our full attention." Fíli assured him. Thorin nodded, then began. 

"Our journey was never just to trade. I wished to see Erebor once more. My reasons, I never told you." 

* * *

 

By noon, the sky had remained grey, not even managing the normally pale blue tone that was streaked with clouds. There was a thick cover over the Shire, the air frigid and the outside taking on a near inhabitable feeling. Thorin could feel a storm coming, the wet, frozen scent thick in the air.  

It served as a reminder of what loomed upon them, of his past and his choices. He had caused this, however indirectly it may have been. Thorin knew that there was no feasible way to fix this, and he loathed himself for it. He despised the corrupted king who had ordered this, and the monsters that threatened to decimate the sleepy Shire, and its peaceful assortment of hobbits. 

He couldn't stomach thinking of what Bilbo thought of him now. 

Said hobbit had fallen asleep within the hour of Thorin leaving him be, exhausted from his grief. Thorin found him asleep when he went to check on him, lingering in the doorway as if another step would shatter the scene. Bilbo's face was streaked with tear tracks that he had not let Thorin see fall and the blankets were clenched in his fist, pulled up against his mouth in what was probably an attempt to muffle his sobs. Thorin couldn't bring himself to wake him up. Bilbo needed at the rest he could get, especially in this trying time. As soon as he woke, they would need to plan, and it would without a doubt, take all of Bilbo's energy to do so. 

Gandalf remained in the kitchen and stood up to the endless questions of the company, understanding that distrust and anger drove the less than pleasant accusations and inquiries. Interestingly, it was the older members of the company who made the worse remarks, such as Bifur declaring in frenzied Khuzdul that Gandalf himself was probably in cahoots with the still living King Fror. Thorin knew that a the dwarves of the company saw Bilbo as their friend, but such accusations were no simple matter in dwarvish culture. It was plain to see that he was no longer just a friend to any of them, but as close to family as he could become. Thorin made no effort to stop them through it all. He was just as angry, but knew he had to keep it in check. Watching the wizard be torn apart by his closest friends sufficed well enough, and helped Thorin to breathe a little easier. 

Many of their questions were focused around his relation to Bilbo and what his presence meant, as well as how he knew such intimate things of Thorin's past. Fíli and Kíli had done well at telling the company what Thorin told them, and those who had not experienced it firsthand now knew something they had never expected. Even Balin and Dwalin, who had fled Erebor with him, learned things they did not know, and had many century long suspicions confirmed. Much to his relief, Thorin found that he was not treated differently. His past remained his past, and the company saw him only as the dwarf they had lived with in Ered Luin. 

* * *

It was nearly 2 in the afternoon when Bilbo joined them again. The dwarves had exhausted their store of questions and had mostly wandered off to prepare their weapons, despite there being no set plan. They lumbered down to the smithy, carrying all the weapons of the company and a promise to sharpen the blades enough to kill with the first blow. Only Balin, Fíli and Kíli remained with Thorin, the first sitting with him in the kitchen as Thorin spoke with Gandalf. Fíli and Kíli had retreated to their room to restring Kíli's bow, sharpen his arrowheads, and craft a few additional arrows. 

Thorin, Balin and Gandalf were discussing Erebor, from its past to its present. 

"You said you knew my grandfather. Were you aware of the injustice that took place?" Thorin asked, his anger continuing to bubble low inside. Gandalf paused, choosing his words wisely it seemed. 

"Not immediately, no. The matters of dwarves do not usually concern me as much as others do, and I do not visit Erebor very often. However, I had met your grandfather on several occasions. It was not until perhaps 30 years after it all occurred that I once again travelled to Erebor. I wished to seek him out, but I knew I was being followed by King Fror's men. It wouldn't have been safe for me, nonetheless your grandfather."

"How did you come by the information you gave Thorin?" Balin questioned, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He was calm, level headed when Thorin could not be. 

"That's a very long story. Well--" Bilbo shuffled into the kitchen, his hair astray from sleep, but now dressed. Thorin heard him approach and the conversation died immediately. 

"Bilbo. How do you feel?" He asked, rising from his seat as Bilbo walked over, his steps slow. The hobbit made a noncommittal noise. 

"Okay." He muttered. Thorin noticed the way his breath seemed to quicken when his eyes met Gandalf's, his entire body tensing. Thorin gently took his arm and led him to sit down, easing him down onto the bench. Bilbo inhaled shakily, and looked at Gandalf again. 

"I'm...I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I was just so..." He whispered, words escaping him. Gandalf gave Bilbo a sad, pitying smile. 

"My dear Bilbo, do not apologize." He said. "You've been under a lot of stress lately, and this is all very difficult to bear. You are entitled to any reactions you wish."

Bilbo nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he bent his head. Thorin put an arm around him and rubbed his thumb across his shoulder, pulling him closer. 

"We must plan. With Grandfather...gone, implementing any plan will be even more difficult. We are all grieving, and--" Bilbo suddenly cut off, coughing violently. He bent over until his head nearly touched the table top, covering his mouth as he hacked into his hands. 

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" Bilbo wheezed as Thorin touched him in concern. The dwarf shook his head, pushing away Bilbo's protesting hands as he felt his forehead. 

"You're burning up! I knew you'd become ill." Thorin stood up and tried to lead Bilbo away from the table, but was swatted away. 

"I can walk!" His voice came out shrill and hoarse, and in his attempt to wiggle out of Thorin's help, he tripped. Bilbo fell to his knees and began to cough again, groaning miserably. 

"Balin, tell Fíli and Kíli to go get Oín. Now!" Thorin demanded, voice rising when he saw the other dwarf simply standing there in shock. Bilbo fought against Thorin's assistance weakly, puffing out crackling bouts of coughing. 

"Thorin, we must plan! Please, there's no time to lose!" He begged. Thorin was deaf to his pleading, simply picking Bilbo right up and holding him as he carried the hobbit back to his room. Fíli and Kíli were coming down the hall as Thorin approached, eyes wide and brows drawn in worry. 

"Uncle--" Kíli tried to say, but was cut off. 

"Go!" Thorin commanded, pushing the door to Bilbo's room open with his foot. Bilbo squirmed and cried in frustration, unable to escape the grip Thorin had on him. Thorin was holding him as one might carry their spouse, with Bilbo cradled to his chest and his arm tucked under the hobbit's legs. However, Bilbo trashed as much as someone with a fever could, and pounded his fists against Thorin's chest. 

"Put me down!" 

"Gladly." Thorin huffed, depositing him down upon his bed. Bilbo's face was flushed from exertion and no doubt the pain of his illness. He tried to sit up and move, but was held in place by Thorin's hands. 

"Bilbo, you are ill. You will rest, whether you like it or not!" Thorin told him firmly, expression hard and set. Bilbo groaned, the protesting noise high and desperate. 

"Please Thorin! I cannot rest, for who will plan?! The Shire will fall without a plan!"

"Bilbo, we will get through this--"

"Do you not understand?!" Bilbo shrieked. "Those are my people out there, at the mercy of an enemy someone has called upon us! If I do not help them, we will all be  _slaughtered_!  Thorin please--" Bilbo cut off with a raging cough, his voice cracking as a wet, harsh sound escaped him. With a crumbling resolve and an aching heart, Thorin watched as tears welled up in his hobbit's eyes, ones of agony and desperation, of helplessness at something he could never hope to fix. "I cannot let anyone else  _die_!"

Bilbo's face crumpled and he began to weep, his icy hands gripping Thorin's forearms. The dwarf released his hold and bent to wrap his arms around Bilbo, holding the hobbit close to his chest. Bilbo cried into his neck, his sobs punctuated by coughing. Thorin rubbed his hands over his back, trying to soothe the overworked and frazzled hobbit. 

"I will take care of everything Bilbo, I swear to you." Thorin vowed, one hand moving to stroke his messy hair. "Tell me what you want and what I must do, and it shall happen."

"I am here to help as well." Gandalf's voice said suddenly, having appeared at the doorway. He took the moment to walk in the room, a tender, sad look on his face. Bilbo's grip on Thorin eased, and the dwarf was able to get him to lay down, the hobbit's skin, minus his red nose, having faded to a pallid tone. Thorin sunk down so that he was kneeling at Bilbo's bedside, the hobbit's bandaged hand clasped in his own two. 

"We will handle this,  _ghivashel._ Have faith, please. I will not let any harm befall your people if I can prevent it." Thorin whispered in earnest, squeezing his hand. Bilbo gasped in pain, pulling his hand away sharply. Thorin started like he had been shocked, not having realized which hand he'd taken. 

"You hand is still giving you pain?" He asked in surprise, eyeing the wound with scrutiny. 

"What happened to your hand?" Gandalf questioned, advancing towards them. Bilbo shook his head. 

"No, no it's fine. It's just a small bite."

"Bilbo, give me your hand." Thorin demanded, rising from his spot on the floor. Bilbo shook his head again. 

"No, it's fine--"

" _Now._ " With a moment of hesitation, Bilbo put out his hand, biting his lip when Thorin began to tug and unwind the bandage. He shut his eyes, breathing deeply from what was obvious pain. 

"By Mahal..." Thorin muttered, looking at the wound. The skin was puffy and red, shining from the tightness of the swelling. The bite marks themselves were a mix of dark, scabby black, and the deep red of injured skin. The marks oozed pus, clearly neglected, as well as infected. 

"You said it was fine." Thorin said through gritted teeth. His anger flared, utterly infuriated by Bilbo's lack of self care. The hobbit draped his other arm over his eyes, sighing tiredly. 

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Didn't want me to  _worry?_ " Thorin repeated. "Wonderful job with that! By Mahal, I don't know if you're sick from the cold or that! How could you be so...so  _stupid_?!"

"Master Thorin, enough. Calm down." Gandalf said, reaching out to grab his arm. Thorin shrugged him off, shaking his head. 

"You want to save everyone but yourself, Bilbo!" Thorin said harshly. "If you will not think of yourself, think of me! Has it never occurred to you how losing you might affect  _me?"_

"MasterThorin--"

"Be silent, wizard!" Thorin growled. "I have given you all I can, and I cannot even receive a promise that you will live past the winter?!" Thorin realized mutely that Bilbo was crying, his arm covering his eyes and soaking up nearly all his tears. The ones that escaped rolled down his cheeks and onto his collar, wetting the fabric with the pent up emotions Bilbo could not voice. 

With a snarl of frustration, Thorin swept out of the room. He stomped off towards the kitchen, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Curse Bilbo and his lack of self preservation! Thorin loathed having yelled at him as he did, but the way the hobbit acted sometimes drove him mad. Thorin understood putting others first, but he could not handle the thought of losing Bilbo. 

With a shout of anger, Thorin slammed his fist against a doorway. He gritted his teeth and put his forehead down upon it, struggling to catch a calm breath. His mind jumped back to a time over a 100 years ago, when he was far too young for what he was made to do, and had no choice but to watch someone he loved fall. 

He thought of when their small caravan was ambushed by orcs, the ones the know knew had been sent out by King Fror. He thought of their ponies screeching in fear, of young Dís and Frerin crying out in confusion and terror. They both rose valiantly to the occasion, Frerin, an amateur with his bow, and Dís with her throwing knives she had only begun to use. The sheer number of them were overpowering, and they numbered only 6, a pitiful, hopeless number. 

For a moment, Thorin had his back turned, having cut down an orc. As he struggled to tear his blade out of its thick, dead flesh, his guard was let down. There was the twang of metal slicing through air, and he turned with a gasp, barely managing to lift his blade when he was shoved out of the way. 

The low, guttural sound of someone talking after being stabbed would echo in his ears for years, and he watched with wide, shocked eyes as his mother took an orcish blade through her stomach, having blocked the blow aimed for her eldest son. Freia uttered only one word, one that he would take to heart as long as he lived. 

_"Protect."_  

Thorin curled his hands around the wood of the doorway, shutting his eyes. Bilbo and his mother were so similar in some aspects it  _burned,_ reminding him of what he had lost. But he, he himself had inherited the same trait of self sacrifice. He had told Bilbo to leave when the wolf attacked them, and was ready to give up his life to save him. The wound on Bilbo's hand was proof of the hobbit's love for him, his own latent need to protect. To be angry with him for something he did just as much would be utter hypocrisy. 

Thorin inhaled deeply, regaining his lost composure. Poor Bilbo, being stuck with such an accursed dwarf as his One. He did not deserve half of what Thorin put him through, but dealt with all of it. How one hobbit, so small and soft could be stronger than any dwarf astounded him. 

The sound of the front door opening caught his attention. Thorin looked up and released the door frame as Fíli, Kíli and Balin entered, now with Oín as well as Dori in tow. 

"We got Oín!" Fíli announced, his tone still clouded with worry. 

"And Dori!" Kíli hollered, immediately heading for Bilbo's bedroom. The older brother noticed Thorin standing nearby and grabbed his sibling's collar, yanking him back. 

"Take off your boots and quit yelling. Bilbo's ill, so be quiet." He said hotly, brows knitted. Fíli always had been more like his mother in temperament, quick to irritation in times of worry. Kíli looked sheepish and nodded, turning and then noticing his uncle standing nearby. 

"Oín, Dori, you two go. Bilbo's come down with a fever, and that wolf bite on his hand is badly infected."

"Understood. Come Oín." Dori replied, hurrying with the older dwarf towards the hobbit's bedroom. Silence ensued, and Thorin could feel his friend and family's eyes upon him. 

"Something happened while we were away." Balin said. Thorin let out a short, humorless laugh. 

"Indeed." His wan smile faded, and he looked upon them with a sigh. "I fear that Bilbo will become too ill for us to rely upon him for instruction. We must formulate a plan, and now. Gandalf the wizard, he will assist us. Orcs are but two days away, and the Shire will not survive if we do not take action."

"But what can we do?" Fíli asked, his voice stained with the fear of defeat. "The hobbits know us, but they can't trust us the way they do Bilbo, or had the Thain! Uncle, how will we get them to  _listen_?"

"Listen to me." Thorin said, advancing towards him and gently grabbing his shoulders. "These hobbits, they are not weak. Once they know what looms, they will band together. Do not fear, we will get through this. The Shire will not fall to evil." 

Fíli nodded slowly, then leaned his forehead against his uncle's. It was a gesture so small, but it lifted the heavy veil of self doubt and blame that had been looming upon him. He allowed himself a small smile, and pulled away gently. 

"Balin, fetch Gandalf. There is no more time to lose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is never gonna get finished at the rate i'm writing i'm so sorry


	22. Chapter 22

_His blood pumped and thrummed through his veins, the heat of the battle stealing his breath and making him grip his sword. The blade, though a bit small for him, cut like nothing else, slicing through the Orcs that seemed to never end. Another fell and took his sword with it, the dwarf's hands having grown slick with perspiration. He struggled to yank it out, the blade sitting heavily in the mangled flesh of the dead creature._

 

_Then he heard it, the movement of a blade and what was supposed to ultimately be his death. His breath was knocked from him as he was shoved out of the way, finally freeing the blade. Everything seemed to slow for a moment, and he watched in horror as the blade sunk in deep, making a jagged wound that blood began to bubble and seep out of. The dwarrowdam spoke to him but her words carried no voice. They were mouthed, but so, so utterly silent. The orcish sword was ripped from her body, in a harsh curve that cut her open and made her innards spill, her body going limp with death. The pale Orc that slayed her let out a sound that he could not describe, a mixture of some gurgling chuckle and a growl. The young dwarf felt his breath quicken, gripping the sword tightly. He screamed in rage, trying to raise his blade as he began to scramble off the ground to attack._

_But his movements were slow, as if his limbs were made of rock. His sword was too heavy, and he could not lift it, utterly frozen in his spot on the ground. Terror flodded him as the Orc brought him down to the ground with a hard kick, making his ribs feel like they were on fire as the pain rushed through him. It brought the blade down upon him as well, the metal stained with the blood of his own mother. It pierced his chest with the disgusting sound of bone grating and flesh sawing, and he screamed out in agony, becoming pinned to ground as it sunk lower and lower. He gurgled and watched helplessly as the rest of the dwarves in his caravan were taken down. Dwalin was struck upon his exposed head as he tried to protect Dís, and Thorin mouthed her name with blood filling his mouth. One by one, they were cut open and dashed to pieces, mutilated and murdered and he was helpless, in agony and dying as the Orc laughed above him and his name was being called, over and over in an accusing chant_

_Thorin, Thorin, Thorinthorinthorin--_

"Thorin!" 

 He woke with a jolt, his voice sticking in his throat. Thorin breathed heavily, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked up at Dwalin, relief filling him as he saw his friend. 

"Nap time's over. You've got that meetin' in a little while. You okay?"

"Fine. Just a dream." He breathed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Dwalin looked concerned, a hard expression to find on his gruff face. But Thorin had known him for many years, and all reactions, no matter how small, could be accounted for. 

"How's Bilbo?" Thorin asked in an attempt to distract Dwalin. The dwarf hesitated before answering. 

"Not any better I don't think. Still got that fever. "

Thorin sighed wearily. "Oín and Dori are still taking care of him?"

"Aye. As well as they can."

"That's all I can ask for." He rose from the cushy chair he had fallen asleep in, the same one from the first time he had ever stayed the night. It sat opposite of Bilbo's, which remained empty. 

"I hope this goes well." Thorin muttered, walking out of the parlor and heading towards the foyer. Dwalin followed behind him, scoffing. 

"It'll be fine. Those hobbits know you, and the fear of it all will get to 'em."

"You know just what to say." Thorin remarked dryly.  He pulled on his boots with a hesitant air, then took his cloak off the hook. He paused for a moment, feeling the fur lining inside that Bilbo had sewn in and he could hardly breathe. This was all for him. This would decide their fate. 

"Uncle, we're all gonna be waiting outside. Gandalf is already out there. He brought his horse!" Kíli said as he and Fíli walked towards the door, already ready to go. They had both obviously been trekking through the smial with his boots on, but since Bilbo was stuck in his bed, no one stopped them. 

"Yes Kíli. I'll be right there." Thorin replied. He put on his cloak with the resignation of one going to their execution and sighed. Dwalin put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. 

"You'll be alright." He told him earnestly. Thorin nodded, closing his eyes. He inhaled and opened them again, then gave his friend a single nod. Thorin went out to join the rest of his party, the four people he would take with him to the meeting. Gandalf had indeed brought his horse, this tall, white creature that seemed to be double Thorin's height. He eyed it warily before seeing his own pony waiting for him. 

"Gandalf, you know the way?" Thorin asked, confirming what the wizard had told him earlier. He nodded. 

"Of course. Are we ready to go?"

"Indeed." Thorin grunted, climbing onto his pony. He stroked her mane, breathing deeply as they set off.  

The wind was nearly nonexistent, lacking its powerful gusts that Thorin had come to know. The air felt frozen and heavy, crushing down on Thorin's shoulders. They drove their ponies at a moderate pace, enough to get there quickly, slow enough not to tire them out too fast. Gandalf's horse rode in front of them, its larger body creating a path that made it easier for the dwarves to follow. They were all silent, no words fitting the oppressive atmosphere. 

Besides, what was there to talk of? Anything of a light disposition would inevitably fail, as no one had the attitude to keep it going. To speak of the imminent danger would be redundant, as it was clearly already on all their minds. The only sounds were the miscellaneous noises of their ponies and the crunch of snow beneath their hooves. 

The Great Hall was the formal name of the meeting place in Tuckborough, though Thorin had heard most simply call it 'the Hall' instead. It was a large building, but mighty cozy once the seats and benches inside filled. When they arrived, hobbits filed inside, all of them bundled up against the cold. None knew of the nature of the meeting, simply that it was  _essential_ that they attended. 

Thorin climbed off his pony and swallowed heavily as he looked at the building. His hand itched for a smaller one to hold, for the reassuring, though equally nervous smile of his hobbit. Thorin was snapped from his thinking when Gandalf put a hand on his back, urging him forward. 

"The others said that they will attend to the ponies. Come, you and I are required inside."

"Yes. Of course." Thorin murmured, throwing a look over his shoulder at the retreating figures of his friend and family. 

The Great Hall was buzzing with energy when they entered, the insistent chattering of hobbits distracting Thorin from thinking of what loomed. He and Gandalf went to the end of the Hall where those who presided over the meetings sat, heavy wooden tables in front of their chairs. The Mayor of Michael Delving rose to shake his hand when he approached, as did the Master of Buckland. Thorin had only met the both of them once before, and frankly knew nothing about them except for their titles. They were polite however, and gave Thorin a rather lacking handshake that told him they only knew the bare minimum of their situation. Gandalf had been the one to go off and get the attendance of the Shire's officials, saying that it was the least he could do. Thorin was inclined to agree. His wizardly powers could  _not_ fix Bilbo's illness no matter how much he asked, and Thorin would admit he was more than a little bitter about it. 

"Master Thorin, isn't it?" He turned at the unfamiliar voice and saw a hobbit he did not recognize. He was rather old, with very light grey hair and a wrinkled face. He seemed to clue in on the dwarf's confusion and held out his hand. "Isengrim Took. I'm Gerontius's son, the new Thain."

"Ah yes, of course." Thorin hastened to say, despite not ever having heard of him besides a few mentions from Bilbo. "I'm very sorry for--"

"Please don't." Isengrim sighed. "I've heard quite enough of it today alone, and sorrows won't bring him back. We should focus more on what is at hand."

"Yes. My apologies." Thorin replied, feeling rather foolish. Isengrim cleared his throat, seeming to realize how brash he had been. 

"You're courting Bilbo I hear."

"Ah, yes. I am."

"Treat him well, eh? Poor lad doesn't deserve half of what gets thrown at him." Isengrim mumbled. He walked off without another word, leaving Thorin to stand there in silence. 

"Uncle, the meeting is starting. Come on." Kíli was suddenly at his side, nudging his shoulder. Thorin nodded and followed mutely, taking a seat at the long table. 

Gandalf was the perfect example of calmness as the meeting started, face relaxed as he stared out at the crowd. Isengrim rose to the podium and called them all to attention, his voice loud and booming despite his age. 

"Hobbits! This meeting has been called for an unprecedented cause. None of you have had to deal with such a thing in your entire lifetime, and as such, I ask for the utmost attention and open mindedness." 

There was a murmur of confusion and anticipation, all of them unsuspecting. It made Thorin's skin crawl to think of what would happen without their support. 

"There has been no need for a Shire-muster since the Battle of Greenfields, and I very much regret to say that the time has come again to repeat such a heinous experience. Hobbits, today you will be required to take up arms."

It was chaos immediately. Gasps and cries of shock and dispute began to fill the hall, hobbits rising out of their seats to refute the Thain's order, and parents clutching their children in anticipation for a draft of some sort. 

"You've gone mad! Bloody barmy he is!" Shouted one older hobbit, pointing a finger at the Thain accusingly. "We don't even know what sort of danger there is! Oh, if only your father was here!"

Thorin's eyes widened and his head whipped to stare at Isengrim, looking for a reaction. The hobbit simply looked tired, sighing heavily. 

"I am not my father, you are right. But I am trying my hardest to do what I must. If you think you could do a better job, be my guest! I very much suspect we'd all sooner be slaughtered then prosper under some farmer's rule!" 

Fighting ensued, with heavy insults being thrown as anger began to fester. Isengrim left the podium, muttering about the stubbornness of hobbits as he took his seat again. Thorin watched as the hobbits argued, shouting over each other and some even beginning to raise fists. Thorin stood sharply, having seen enough. 

"Attention!" He took to the podium and shouted, using the voice he had adopted when Fíli and Kíli were young and got into scuffles due to their own curiosity. The Hall's noise dissipated, and he was left with what seemed like hundreds of hobbits staring at him. 

"It would do you all some good to listen to your Thain. If you wish to know of danger, I will tell you. There is an army of Orcs heading here as we speak, and they shall be upon the Shire's doorstep before you know it! Unless you wish to be decimated, take up arms! Band together the way I have seen you do!"

"You're supposed to be protecting us! Why must we fight?" Someone called, and there were shouts of agreement. Thorin grinded his teeth. 

"You must fight because 13 dwarves cannot kill an army! I have had my own family fall to an orcish blade, and I do not wish to see the same happen to you. There will be casualties, there is in every fight. But is the survival of your race as a whole not important? Where will you be when your children are dead because of your own selfishness and refusal to take up arms? I would give my life for any of you, and I should hope I would receive the same treatment!"

It was silent, the lack of noise stifling. Thorin breathed heavily, his gall having left him. It was now replaced by fear, horror at the thought that the Shire might so easily meet its end.

"He's right." Thorin's eyes met Hamfast's as the hobbit stood from his seat. Bell clutched his hand where she sat next to him, nodding. "That dwarf is perhaps the most honorable being I have ever met, and for that reason alone, I would stand with him. If my family is in danger, I'll fight. We cannot let ourselves be so easily beaten!"

Slowly, support gathered, and a few hobbits began to stand, voicing their agreement. Thorin nodded to Hamfast, overcome with gratitude for his words. 

"If you will fight, stand! The Shire will not fall to an enemy today!"

Younger hobbits stood first, at the protest of their parents. Thorin watched as girls gathered up their skirts to rise and smacked their brothers' arms in encouragement. Long suffering adults took the bait and joined the quickly gathering force, roars of determination and support now filling the building. Thorin felt a relieved smile grow on his face, and he exhaled shakily, casting a glance first at the approving face of the Thain, then at towards calm gaze of Gandalf. 

There was still a chance. He could still have hope. 

* * *

Thorin was silent as he opened the door, creeping inside with uncharacteristically light footfalls. Oín had said that Bilbo's condition was no better, and if anything, had worsened. For now, the hobbit was asleep, laying curled up on his bed as he shuddered through the chills of his fever. Thorin sighed as he came to sit on the bed, perched on the edge against Bilbo's legs. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and smoothed a hand over his shoulder and arm, feeling the hobbit quake in his slumber. 

"The meeting went well." He whispered. Bilbo did not wake as Thorin continued. "The Shire now has an army. I did alright, you'd be happy." 

Thorin noticed that the cool cloth that seemed to have been on Bilbo's forehead had fallen off in his unconscious movement, and that it was no longer damp. Thorin took it and rose from the bed, going over to the small water basin on the nightstand. He wet the cloth in the cold water and wrung it out before walking back to Bilbo's bed. Gently, he moved the hobbit's head, and laid it over his feverish skin. He sighed. 

 "Oín said you've gotten worse. Why did you leave that bite unattended? You must've known this would happen. You should've known."

He grew silent, eyes downcast at the quilted pattern of the heavy top blanket. "The Orcs will be here soon. We have perhaps another day. I'm...I'm so sorry for bringing this upon you. You are the most valuable thing in my life, and I am such a fool. Bilbo, please forgive me. When this is over, if I am left standing, please forgive me for what I have brought upon you. I love you too much to leave, but staying after this will be even harder. You've quite ruined me, Bilbo Baggins."

Thorin sat down again and watched the labored breathing of his beloved. Bilbo looked so frail, buried beneath blankets with pale, pale skin. It terrified Thorin, to see someone so strong be reduced to such a lowly state. He shook his head. 

"I must tell you. I cannot wait any longer.  You will not remember what I tell you now, but it will surely take a great weight off my chest. Bilbo, I am not the dwarf you think I am. Up until a few years before I left Erebor, even I did not know I wasn't the dwarf I thought I was. Perhaps, not telling you could be called lying. But never once, Bilbo, did I imagine the opportunity to live as I was destined. After Erebor, I could only think of living as a smith. Someone dedicated to his craft." 

Thorin smiled to himself, but the expression faded as he looked at Bilbo again. "And then I met you. And I fell in love. But what good has come from it? Someone to call my own the expense of the entire Shire? This illness? Forgive me  _ghivashel,_ I must sound so ungrateful. You're the greatest thing that could've happened to me, but I'm only the worst for you. When this is over hate me if you wish. I shan't hold it against you."

Thorin stopped his own rambling and breathed, gathering the courage to tell Bilbo, or at least this form of him, the story he had been committed to take to his grave. He could not look anywhere but his own hands as he begun, voice level despite his own internal breakdown. 

"Hundreds of years ago, there was a king. His name was Daín, and he was of the line of Durin. His father had travelled to Erebor, or the Lonely Mountain as it was called before his rule. Throughout Daín's dwarfhood, the mountain flourished into a beautiful, prosperous kingdom. And when he became a King, his wife bore him three sons. Of those three sons, the eldest was--"

"Thorin!" Dwalin pushed open the door, interrupting his friend from his confession. He bristled and glared at Dwalin. 

"What?" He nearly snarled, brows furrowed in irritation. Dwalin shook his head. 

"The wizard has returned from his ride. Says the Orcs will be in hours, if not less. We have to gather the hobbits."

" _Hours?_ " Thorin repeated. "They were not due for at least another day!"

"He said they didn't stop for nothin'. There's no time to lose."

Thorin gave a helpless look to Bilbo, before rising from the bed and turning away. He followed Dwalin out into the hallway, and watched as his friends readied for a battle that they should not have had to fight in. They had no armor, no shields. Only the brute strength in their muscles and their weapons would protect them, and it could only go so far. Thorin prayed, his mind screaming to Mahal for help. 

_Let the army of dwarves come faster, let there be a chance for survival!_

Thorin did not see Gandalf anywhere, so he shoved his feet into his boots and took his cloak from the hook. He rushed outside, frozen air stinging his nose. Gandalf stood nearby, speaking to some Man Thorin had never seen. There was no casualness of friends in either of their postures, only the rigid stance of those prepped for battle. As the snow crunched beneath Thorin's boots, Gandalf looked up. 

"Master Thorin, this is Strider. He is a Dunedaín Ranger, here to pledge the services of him and his men."

"What prompts you to do this? I have never seen your face, nor heard of you." Thorin remarked lowly. Strider did not take his comment harshly. 

"I have patrolled these lands for a few years now. In that time, I have come to appreciate the hobbits of the Shire, and would help them if I can."

"I found Strider while out riding. Him and his Rangers will be good allies, Thorin." Gandalf said. Thorin nodded. 

"Beggars cannot be choosers. My company and I thank you for your pledge." Thorin gave one more nod to Strider before turning to Gandalf once more. "We must gather the hobbits. Those who cannot defend themselves, hide them. The old, children. Put them somewhere safe. Everyone else should report to the Party field. I must organize them."

"As you wish." Gandalf replied. Thorin nodded, then went off down Bagshot Row. The Gamgees smial was alight inside, seen through the frosted, small windows. He rapped on the door with his knuckles, staring intently at the wood. Young Hamson was the one who opened it, dressed in his nightshirt with his curly head a mess. He squealed when Bell came running up, catching the little fauntling before he could disappear again. 

"Mister Thorin!" She greeted, breathless. Hamson waved at him as he wrapped his arms around his mother's neck, holding on and watching him.  "Come in, come in!" She hustled him inside, closing the door behind him. "What is it?"

Thorin hesitated before speaking. "I must ask you to ready some things. We will be trying to evacuate many of the hobbits to somewhere safe. The enemy is approaching."

"Oh dear." She murmured, glancing at her son with an unreadable expression. "Do you know where?" 

"I do not." He admitted. "I wished to ask you, so that perhaps Master Hamfast might be able to guide Gandalf in his round up of your people."

"Of course." She nodded. Bell put Hamson down gently and gave him a false smile. "Go fetch Da for me, yes?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed gleefully, and Thorin watched with a heavy heart as the oblivious child ran off. Bell shook her head. 

"The Great Hall might be best. It's fairly close to most of the Farthings, and there's a huge cellar underground. If we make it look empty, it might be a good bet."

"Whatever you say." Thorin immediately agreed. He heard Hamfast approach, announced by the proud shout of his son. 

"I got Da! Look Mama, I got him." 

"Yes, now off you go. Bedtime young lad." Hamfast scolded, turning to see Thorin. He grimaced. "This can't be good."

"The enemy approaches, quicker than expected. We have mere hours."

"Hours! Bugger, this will be no easy task." Hamfast sighed. Thorin nodded. 

"I need you to help the wizard, Gandalf. All the hobbits we can manage will be evacuated to the cellar beneath the Great Hall. It will be protected from the outside, but we must get everyone there first."

"Of course." He agreed. "But what have I got to do with it? I'm no leader."

"The hobbits know you." Thorin stressed. "Perhaps not well, but they will trust one of their own over a wizard any day."

"And what of Bilbo? I have yet to see him once today."

Thorin avoided looking at Hamfast. "He's very sick. He will remain in Bag End, and he will be safe."

" _Safe?"_ Hamfast repeated. "Someone better be guarding that place! If these monsters are as bad as his Ma used to tell us, they'll set Bag End aflame!"

" _He'll be safe_!" Thorin snapped. His hands shook as the memory of his own mother's death flashed through his mind, scorching him and making his blood boil. Hamfast was taken aback by his outburst, staring with wide eyes. 

"Have faith in me. Someone must." Thorin said, his voice filled with desperation. 

Hamfast nodded, mouth pressed into a tight, set line. "I believe you. Let's get down to business, eh?" 

* * *

There were more Rangers than Thorin had expected patrolling the lands around the Shire, as they quickly numbered in groups soon after Strider sent for others. They all carried swords or bows, well prepared for any impending fight on a good day. On a awful, miserable such as this, it was almost as if they craved to feel the slicing of orc flesh. 

Despite all that had happened, Thorin was not looking forward to the battle. As he stood in the bitter cold watching hobbits don old mail collected from their Mathom House, and clench swords that were forged in a hurry, so insignificant compared to the deadly blades that would be coming at them, he could only feel regret. He scarcely knew any of them, but each loss would only twist his heart further. 

There was still no sign of the dwarven army that had been promised. Gandalf had ridden out again to see if there was a possible expected direction the orcs would come from, and if the dwarves were any nearer. Even with the Rangers, their strength was a dire need, and Thorin would've been admittedly quite pleased to see another dwarf that wasn't part of his company. 

He tried not to think of Bilbo as he directed certain hobbits and Rangers to protecting the Great Hall, where many of the old and young, or otherwise unable to fight had gathered. Despite Hamfast's urging, Thorin did not allow for Bilbo to be brought there. He would remain at home in Bag End, too sick to get into trouble. Thorin might have been busy with other things, but he vowed to never let a single Orc or goblin find its way up Bagshot Row. He doubted that any of the creatures would find it in their insignificant brains to actually think of torching the smials as Hamfast had said, and thought Bilbo to be in relatively little danger. 

Dwalin was at his side as he strode out into the Party Field, the snow in it compacted and flat from being trampled on by hobbits day after day. They all stood in a large crowd, talking in hushed voices as the other dwarves stood in a nervous line, watching the anxiety simmer. 

"Any sight of Gandalf?" Thorin asked as he joined the company. Gloín was the first to answer. 

"None. Thorin, I still don't trust that wizard. How are we to know he hasn't run off?" 

"Bilbo trusts him, and that's enough for me." Thorin replied sharply. "Besides, we have no other option. The battle looms upon us, and distrust or no, he's our most powerful ally."

A resigned murmur went through the company at his declaration. Thorin sighed as Hamfast broke from the crowd of hobbits and approached, carrying a mean looking sickle as his weapon. It was no sword, but the blade looked as deadly as any, gleaming in the moonlight. 

"We're ah, we're all ready." The hobbit said. "For whatever you have planned."

"I'm sorry this has happened." Thorin replied earnestly. Hamfast shook his head. 

"We should've expected it. Over a hundred years of peace without so much as a scuffle? We had it coming."

"No one ever has this coming." Thorin told him miserably, breaking from his company to approach the hobbits. Their conversation died at his close presence and Thorin suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He inhaled deeply before speaking. 

"Night looms upon us, as does the enemy." He began. "But I have trust in all of you. Hobbits are a kind and honorable folk, and I cannot see them letting another fall without accident or purpose. May your bows and farm tools serve us well! 

"Here with us are the Rangers who protect your borders. They have pledged their services, and though I know none of them, I cannot imagine any ill will prompting their help. Hobbits of the Shire, we will fight today!"

A resounding cry met Thorin's shout, and the crowd grew rowdy as he continued. 

"We will be  _victorious!_  We will  _survive!_ " As Thorin rallied them, he was startled to realize that he did not want the Shire to make it simply because it was Bilbo's home. In his time being there, it had become tethered to his own heart, a sort of second home. If the Shire fell tonight, Thorin was determined to fall with it. 

A short time passed. The anticipation of the enemy warmed the blood of the many outside, assisting their gloves and cloaks in masking them from the cold. The night was dark, for it was past midnight. The moonlight reflected off the snow and gleamed, giving Thorin a better view than he could've hoped for. As the hobbits stood in a close group, huddled for quiet affirmations and warmth, a noise rose delicately in the air, growing louder and more damning by the second. 

"They are upon us." Thorin whispered wretchedly. Gandalf was still nowhere in sight, nor was the promised dwarvish army. He felt an inexplicable rage swell, causing him to grind his teeth and clench his sword with a new found resilience. 

"Ready yourselves!" He shouted, drawing his sword as the hobbits scrambled into their makeshift squadrons. The archers and slingshots took for any nearby covering, led by Kíli and Orí, and were assisted by a cache of Rangers. Those with blades split into smaller groups, led by two or three dwarves each, and more Rangers as well. Thorin's group led, flanked by Dwalin and Fíli, and the Ranger known as Strider. The strongest hobbits were under his command, eager to defend their homes, and the soft, enjoyable things that came with them.

Carried by the slight wind, the cries and shrieks of the Orcs neared, accompanied by the snarls of the Wargs some rode. It sounded smaller than he had expected, but Thorin did not wish to assume. The Orcs that had ambushed him so long ago had been silent, and surprise attack was a result of it. He was determined to take no chances. 

The vicious, guttural speech of an Orc could be heard over the rest, and Thorin went nearly breathless. Its hard voice, mangled as much as its body was, called out, only one word distinguishable. 

" _Prauta! Vras shakutarbik_   _Oakenshield!"_

* * *

His head was throbbing when he woke, and that was all his senses would award him with for a moment. Bilbo moaned quietly, the pressure in his skull being nearly mind numbing. He forced his eyes open and looked around the dark room, illuminated by a single candle, which was nearly at its end. He watched the wax melt for a moment before straining to listen for any noise. It was oddly quiet, and while everyone could've been asleep, dwarves were notoriously loud snorers, ans the general hum he had grown used to was absent. 

"Thorin." He called, voice weak and cracking. The single word made his throat itch, and he gave a cough before calling again. 

"Thorin!" 

Silence met him again. Bilbo swallowed painfully, feeling nervousness well up. It was clearly the dead of night, but no one was in Bag End except himself. Why? Where could've they gone? 

He let out a whimper of pain as he pushed himself up. His hand was still infected, the last thing he remembered being Oín cleaning the wound. It twinged painfully when he put weight on it, and Bilbo pulled it off the bed to hold it in his lap. His situation was a replica of his time before knowing the dwarves, completely alone should he have woken in the night. It terrified Bilbo, and in his terror he swung his legs over the bed and scrambled down with shaking legs, his body ravaged by whatever sickness had been brought upon him. He nearly keeled over, his head feeling as it might split in two with every movement. But he continued on, shuffling out of his bedroom and into the hall. It was utterly dark, devoid of all other life. He pushed open the door to Fíli and Kíli's room, peering inside. Their belongings lay scattered about as usual, but they were not there. If for some reason Thorin had made them leave, then they surely would've taken their things. He was no fool, and knew that they could not make it to Ered Luin with no supplies. 

Moving on, Bilbo trudged out into the foyer. He could hear something, faint, but most certainly there. He could not recognize or name just what it was, but it called to him, setting off something inside of him despite his sickness. He moved in the dark to fetch his cloak, his movements slow and clumsy as he struggled to clasp it. Feeling his way through the smial with his hands, he brought himself to his study. The moonlight filtered into the room, illuminating it. Bilbo shielded his face from it as he located his sword. Why he would need it, he did not know. But to his fever addled mind, carrying a sword was the obvious thing to do. 

The night was devoid of its normal howling wind. Bilbo saw bobbing lights in the distance as he left Bag End, trudging through the light path down Bagshot Row. His hands shook from weakness as he walked, struggling to distinguish just what sound he was hearing. It sounded metallic, but there were also voices. They couldn't possibly be training! A quick look at the Gamgee's nearby smial showed it to be vacant, and tears flooded Bilbo's eyes. Perhaps it was his illness, but being alone was the least thing he wanted right now. He craved Thorin's gentle touch and soft, rumbling voice. He was utterly alone as his cloudy mind put a name to the sounds he was hearing, the shouts and screams, the clangs and twangs of weapons finally making sense. 

The siege had come early, far earlier than he had expected. Bilbo tried to breathe but choked on the air, his eyes widening as he began to make out shapes of terrifyingly ugly Orcs and the hobbits that fought them. He saw Men in the mix; Rangers? Bilbo's quaking hands scrambled for his sword, even if his presence seemed to be unnoticed. His legs moved slowly as he stifled a cough, throat convulsing as it tried to force out the noise. As he walked on, too stunned to stop himself, he tripped. His head felt like a hammer had smashed into it, splitting in two. He cried out in pain, pressing his eyes shut against the snow as he struggled to breathe. He coughed raggedly, lungs trying desperately to bring in air. 

_"Za! Za! Kurv! Oakenshield kurv!"_

Bilbo looked up at the sound of Thorin's name and looked around for him, squinting as a gust of wind blew snow into his eyes. The breath was knocked out of him in the next second when he was suddenly yanked up, a strong hand gripping his cloak and shirt in one. He thought for a second that perhaps it was Thorin, now seeing him. But as the beast that he was held against growled, its white fur dirty and bristling, he realized that this was no dwarf. Bilbo breathed heavily, struggling with fear in the grip of the Orc.

"Bilbo!" Thorin's shout reached him as the Orc urged his Warg faster, riding farther and farther from the battle. Bilbo tried to yell for him, but his voice was too hoarse to be heard. He turned his head as much as he could to see Thorin on his pony, galloping towards them. His hair was a mess and his face dirty, streaked with blood that was both his own and that of his enemies. 

The Orc forced his Warg into a sharp turn, and Bilbo felt himself be pulled further up as they went straight for the nearby woods. Bilbo's eyes were wide with fear as he was tucked into the elbow of the Orc, his skin pale and scarred. Bilbo heard the galloping of Thorin's pony growing fainter and his hand flew to his sword in terror. He pulled it from the sheath as the Orc looked down at him, confusion evident on his face. In the next moment, Bilbo drove the blade into the side of the Warg, making a jagged cut that sent them all tumbling into the snow as the beast howled in agony and faltered. 

Bilbo groaned in pain as he tried to crawl away, his vision sparkling with white from the impact. He had barely made it a few feet before he was snatched again, the Orc grabbing his ankle and pulling him back. 

"Leave me alone! No!" Bilbo cried hoarsely as he kicked and thrashed. He turned around to look and was frozen under the gaze of the monster, his eyes so pale he could only see the outline of them in the dark. Bilbo's fingers clenched spasmodically in the snow before he realized that his sword was still buried in the side of the dying Warg. He opened his mouth to yell, but before he could make a sound, Thorin was there. 

The dwarf tackled and slammed the Orc to the side with a heavy shout, sending them both into the snow. The grip of the Orc had been stronger than Bilbo expected, and he heard a pop before fiery pain shot up his ankle. He let out a mute cry, eyes wide as the agony of his dislocated ankle registered. 

Thorin pushed himself up off the ground and drew his sword, drawing the Orc further and further from Bilbo. As the hobbit lay in the snow, frozen with cold and pain, Thorin bared his teeth, wanting to go to him. Any lack of attention would've given the Orc a window to attack however, and Thorin would not allow that to happen. 

"You killed my mother." Thorin hissed as the Orc advanced on him. "And you hurt him. You will  _pay."_

The Orc let out some semblance of a laugh, its voice too mangled to identify with any real sound. Its arm ended in an ugly stump, Thorin's own handiwork. But the sharp blade that had been stuck into the limb was not. His other hand gripped a mace, with dirty, yet sharp flanges. It had an obvious weight that made Thorin swallow heavily. 

"It is for him." The creature crowed, mangled face lighting up with a smile. Thorin's eyes flickered to Bilbo as he clenched his sword tightly, breathing heavy with fury. He bared his teeth as he moved in for an attack, swinging his sword only to have it meet the blade of the Orc's stump. 

Thorin moved as quickly as he could in the snow. He narrowly avoided the swing of the Orc's mace, ducking under it and bringing his sword up. These creatures were made of thick skin, and the quick slice of Thorin's sword drew only trickles of sticky, black blood from its body. It smelled the way decomposing flesh did as it dripped into the snow, never once stopping the onslaught of attacks. 

Thorin looked around as he dodged another blow, searching for a branch that might again serve as a shield and save his life. But the branches remained in the trees and any fallen ones were buried under snow. The Orc swung his mace and it clipped his arm. Thorin gasped as he felt the skin and cloth alike tear, and his tunic slowly become damp with blood. 

* * *

 

Bilbo's exertion continued to catch up with him as he tried to push himself up to help Thorin, his body weak enough on its own, but now compounded by the dislocated ankle. He watched them move as he dragged himself across the snow, trying to remain as unnoticeable as possible. The dead Warg lay a bit away from him, its massive body leaking blood into the snow. The pool of dark blood had soaked the area around it, and Bilbo nearly missed his sword with how much it had become covered. 

He whimpered in pain as he reached it, pulling out the sword with a sickening noise that brought bile to his throat and made him gag. His head pounded endlessly now. He moved away from the carcass and began to use snow to scrub off the blood of Warg, the fluid having nearly soaked his sword completely. 

A shout caught his attention, and he turned to see Thorin be flung into the snow, the mace connecting with his chest heavily. Bilbo gasped and his faltering voice rasped out the dwarf's name. The Orc let out a deep laugh as it continued to advance, clearly enjoying the way Thorin wriggled farther and farther away as he moaned in agony. 

Bilbo's heart thudded in his chest as he rose to his feet, only to fall down onto his knees as his ankle gave out. He drew in a few ragged breaths before opening his mouth. 

"You! Orc! Come and get me!" His voice was shrill and cracking, but it had the desired outcome. The Orc left Thorin alone and advanced on Bilbo instead, his twisted mouth turning up into a mangled grin. Bilbo crawled away as quick as he could, dragging his useless ankle with him. It was agony to move. He was sure he would pass out from the pain, and the Orc seemed to realize that. It enjoyed watching him suffer, moving only a bit slower than Bilbo could so they always had the same distance between them. Bilbo could not bring himself any farther, and held his blade up with shaking hands. There was no way he could win, not like this. Thorin did not move a few feet away, and Bilbo felt the last of his resolve go out. He bared his teeth as he'd seen the dwarf do. 

"Kill me, you filth." He spat, breathing heavy and wet as he coughed, unable to draw in air. His vision was unclear, the corners fading into darkness as his enemy approached. The Orc's face was smeared with dirt. Or perhaps it was blood, the wound on its stomach still trickling the substance. It stopped above Bilbo, the point of his sword mere inches from it. With a cry, Bilbo thrust it up.

The Orc grabbed the blade and pulled Bilbo up with it. Their faces were nearly level for a moment as Bilbo stared into the sunken eyes of the creature, his fear paralyzing him. As such he could not let go of his sword, and was suddenly pulled up even higher then whipped to the snow. The Orc was not lacking in strength, and Bilbo groaned as he skidded slightly, face resting in the build up snow. It felt as if his lungs were on fire, his ribs aching as if someone had tried to rip them out. Bilbo felt tears leak from his eyes, the pain too much. He was only teetering on consciousness, barely able to see clearly. 

His sword was too far away for him to reach, more so with his adrenaline spent and the pain disabling him. He simply curled in the snow as the Orc raised his stump of an arm, the blade glinting in the fading moonlight. Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut and prepared for his end, body tense as he waited. He heard it began to move, the metal slicing through air. But it suddenly stopped, the tip pressing into his abdomen slightly. Bilbo dared a look, and his mouth hung open at the sight. 

The Orc stood there with Thorin's blade pointing out of his chest, the wound beginning to bleed sluggishly. Thorin's labored breathing could he heard, and Bilbo flinched when Thorin tore his sword up through its chest, decimating the Orc's body. The blood began to spurt and pour, and Thorin pulled his blade out quickly. His arms rose once more as the Orc stumbled, and he beheaded the beast in one quick move. 

Thorin trudged weakly over to Bilbo and collapsed as the Orc fell back in death. His arm was still bleeding, and his breathing was shallow. Bilbo reached up for him, latching onto his ruined cloak. 

"I'll never get the blood out of that." He fretted, and Thorin laughed painfully, his voice aching and miserable. Bilbo could not find the strength to pull himself up off the ground. Thorin instead laid in the snow with him, his hands touching Bilbo's face. 

It reassured Thorin that Bilbo was still there, still here with him. The sounds of battle raged on in the distance as he let out a wet cough. His ribs were broken, there was no doubt, and he had the suspicion that things were worse than that. He could not draw in a deep breath before his lungs began to feel squeezed, and he stopped trying all together. Bilbo was in no better shape, curled up and breathing quickly as much as his body seemed to allow him. Thorin was struck by the magnitude of what he had caused, inadvertently, but nonetheless. He carded his fingers through Bilbo's wet, stringy curls and felt the heat of his fever on his face as his own shoulders shook. 

"I am sorry. I am so sorry." He whispered, breathing ragged as his eyes flooded and he tried to hold back. Bilbo sniffled wetly, and shuffled closer, feeling the weakening heartbeat of his dwarf. 

"I love you." Bilbo mumbled, his vision blurring more. His head ached with every word, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Thorin let out a shuddering breath and kissed him, tilting his head up gently to capture his lips. 

Bilbo did not dare to think of his pain versus Thorin's. Bilbo felt incredibly weak, as if he would disintegrate with one more breath. He decided that if all the hope for the Shire had been lost, then they would both be lost with it.

As the last shred of Bilbo's senses failed him, he thought he heard marching in the distance, and a battle cry of Khuzdul. But Thorin was silent beside him, so Bilbo allowed himself to slip away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERYTHING IS SO BUSY ALL THE TIME I'M SORRY
> 
> Prauta! Vras shakutarbik Oakenshield! - Ambush! Kill the dwarf Oakenshield!
> 
> Za! Za! Kurv! Oakenshield kurv! - There! There! Whore! Oakenshield's whore! (orcs are mean smh)


	23. Chapter 23

Bilbo often slept in the days following his mother's death. It was really all he could do, finding the solace he needed in a comfortable unconsciousness. Hamfast knew that it was part of his grief and being the friend he was, attended to him. Once, Bilbo had awoken to the worried face of his friend, Hamfast claiming he'd slept for over 14 hours and was too worried to let it continue. 

 If the loss of one hobbit caused that, what would some much more prolific number cause? That was of course, if he didn't die. Laying there in the snow, with Thorin's failing heartbeat thudding against his hand, Bilbo had given up hope. He felt exhausted. Thorin was in bad shape, and Bilbo did not want to live in a world without him. 

 But perhaps unfortunately for some, he did not die. Bilbo awoke with sunlight in his eyes and a rather uncomfortable stabbing feeling in his ankle. His senses weren't all there, and the voices he heard faded in and out as he came to. 

"How soon till he wakes up? That Elf helped, didn't he?" Someone asked. 

"That's what Gandalf said." A gruff voice returned.

"Oín, what if he  _doesn't_  wake up?"

"Eh? What was that?"

"Selective hearing." Bilbo mumbled, his words heavy and slurred. His tongue felt thick from disuse, and his words foreign. But Kili's gasp of surprised delight was enough to tell him that he was understood, or at least heard. He loathed to open his eyes, and when he did, sun quite nearly blinded him. 

"Bilbo! Thank Mahal, you're finally awake!" Kíli chirped, coming into Bilbo's sight. He could make out Fíli standing slightly behind him, and Oín right beside. The relieved concern etched on their faces made him smile slightly, even if his body still ached ferociously.

"Finally?" He croaked. "It's only morning."

Fíli shared a glance with Oín, and his good cheer faded slightly. "You've been out for nearly three days."

"Three days." Bilbo whispered. He still felt exhausted. What had occurred in the time he slept? "My apologies."

"Ah, none of that." Oín tsked. The old dwarf pushed Kíli out of the way gently, and it was then Bilbo noticed the sling his arm was in. "You being asleep makes it easier to tend to ya." 

"Indeed." He murmured, closing his eyes and sighing. His back gave a harsh twinge when he moved slightly, and he grimaced in pain. "How badly was I injured?"

Oín twisted his wrinkled face in disgruntled regret. "More than you would've if you'd stayed in bed. To think, with a fever as bad as yours was you'd still make it out into the battle! Hobbits, hmph!" 

Bilbo allowed himself to be poked and prodded at by Oín as Fíli and Kíli watched on. "How did everyone else fare?" 

"Well, I suppose." Fíli answered. "They'll all be sporting some new scars."

"To be expected." Oín murmured as he pulled the blankets down and began to listen to Bilbo's breathing. Bilbo caught sight of Kíli's arm once more when he settled on the corner of the bed. 

"What happened to your arm?"

Kíli flushed a bit and Bilbo saw Fíli crack a smile. "I broke it."

"Obviously. How?"

"He tripped and fell." Fíli snickered, making his brother flush further in embarrassment. Bilbo began to roll his eyes, but stopped when the beginning of a headache twinged. He managed to give them a slight smile. 

"You have any injuries I could laugh at?" Bilbo asked Fíli, attempting to make Kíli feel better for his blunder. Fíli thought for a moment. 

"I nearly lost an eye. Does that count as funny?"

"What? No!" Bilbo said, shocked. "How did you do that?"

"Easy lad." Oín warned, sliding the blankets from off Bilbo's foot. Bilbo continued to stare at Fíli. 

"Well, I just really wasn't paying attention I suppose. Cut down this one Orc," Fíli told him, adding a slicing motion for effect, "and then I turn and this blade gets me in the face. I did move before it reached my eyes though!" Fíli leaned forward, and Bilbo could now clearly see the laceration, curling viciously from Fíli's cheek and stopping just short of his right eye. Bilbo reached out to touch it, but put his hand over his mouth instead. He suddenly felt nauseous. 

"Bilbo, are you alright?" Fíli asked, eyes widening as he saw the color drain from Bilbo's face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's alright." Bilbo choked out. "Are you sure everyone's alright? Thorin...Thorin!" Immediately, Bilbo tried to sit up, only to feel his breath leave him as his back tensed with pain. 

"Lay down!" Oín commanded, shooting a look at the boys. "Bilbo, you're goin' to hurt yourself more."

"I didn't even ask about him." Bilbo whispered in horror. "Oín, please tell me he's survived!"

"Of course he has." The old dwarf soothed, guiding Bilbo back down onto the bed. "He's been awake since the morning after the battle Bilbo."

"But he was so injured." Bilbo grabbed Oín's tunic and looked to Fíli and Kíli for more details. "Please, please don't lie to me."

"I won't say his wounds are minor." Oín told him. "Broken ribs, puncture wounds, things like that. He'll pull through, Bilbo. He may have lost a lot of blood by the time we found you both, but you were nearly frozen stiff! If anyone is still in danger of dying, it's you."

His words silenced Bilbo in an instant. Oín seemed to have regretted his tone a bit, but said nothing as he went back to looking at Bilbo's ankle. 

"What do you mean by still?"

Kíli was the one to answer him. "Well, that bite on your hand it um, gave you some sort of poisoning."

"Blood poisoning." Fíli said quietly. 

"Yes, that. And so when we found you, that is, Fíli, Bofur, Dwalin and I, we were able to wake Thorin, but not you. You were cold to the touch, and your pulse was slow, and your lips were all blue and..." Kíli trailed off, thinking about how  _dead_  Bilbo looked when they found him. 

"There was a small force of Elves that joined the battle. Their leader is some friend of Gandalf." Oín grumbled as he settled the blankets back over Bilbo's foot, seemingly satisfied with what he saw. "But that bite you got? That was no wolf. Those Orcs have been lurking around these parts since you got that first report about some wolves." 

"A Warg then?" Bilbo asked quietly. Oín nodded. 

"Those creatures have foul mouths. That bite just wasn't healing, and the Elf figured out what was wrong. He healed you somehow. We weren't allowed to see." Oín seemed more upset about not being able to watch some type of doctoring than Bilbo being saved by and Elf. "Heard him talking with Gandalf. Apparently whatever you came down with was no cold. It was illness like your Da's if I remember correctly, but much more deadly. You said something about that once, didn't you?"

"Yes." Bilbo replied. He and Oín had spoken at length about the differences between dwarvish hardiness and that of hobbits, and the subject of differences in illnesses came up. 

"He left the rest of it to me. I'm taking care of you and Thorin mostly, and those two knuckleheads over there."

"Hey!"

"'S true." Oín muttered. "The dwarves of Erebor brought their own medics, and the Rangers couldn't care less about Elves treating their wounds, so I suppose I'm not particularly needed."

"Aw, you're always needed Oín!" Kíli crowed. The old dwarf swatted away his comforting hand. 

"I'm not upset about it you fool! My old bones can't keep up with the rate that you youngsters get injured anymore." Oín sighed and began to make for the door. "I'm going to check on Thorin, tell him you're awake. Maybe then he'll stop worrying so much and actually let himself rest." Oín grumbled as he left the bedroom, leaving Bilbo with Fíli and Kíli. Bilbo closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before speaking again. 

"Do..do either of you know the death count?" It was hardest question for him to ask. Simply thinking of the bodies that must've littered the snow made his skin crawl. 

Fíli shook his head. "I don't think we'd be able to give a certain number yet. Though, I only saw a few hobbits that were, well--"

"Dead."

"Yes." 

Bilbo nodded, still not really processing the information. Was it friends he lost, or were they simple acquaintances? Yavanna forbid, but had his own family fallen victim? 

"I'm sorry, Bilbo." Kíli said. "I wished this hadn't happened."

"As do I." Bilbo replied. "But, we can't change the past now can we?" 

* * *

For the first day that he was awake, Bilbo was not permitted to leave his bed. Thorin was in the room next to him, Bilbo found out, but the wall prevented him from soothing the worries in his heart. Bilbo would've tried shouting, but his throat still felt sore and exhaustion lingered. 

Instead of Thorin, Bilbo was able to see the rest of the company. They all looked a bit worse for wear in one way or another. From the unkempt style of their beards and hair that made them look a mess, to the actual bandages and bruises that spoke of fighting, the company wasn't in perfect shape, but they were all there.

Oddly enough, Bilbo noticed a divide between Ori and Dwalin. He would've expected them to be spending time together with the way they both tended to fret over the other, but it wasn't the case. Ori came to see him with his brothers, and Dwalin came with Balin. While the siblings all seemed to be their normal selves, there was something undeniably off about Ori and Dwalin's demeanor. Ori was worried as Bilbo expected, but he seemed distracted. Dwalin wasn't the type of person to coddle, but he seemed even more resigned when Bilbo spoke with him, his face morose. As much as he would've like to ask about it, he decided against butting in. If it was a personal matter, he was sure they would resolve it. 

The last to visit Bilbo was Gandalf and the Elf Oín spoke of. Sitting alone in his bed, he was nearly dozing when the door opened once more. Gandalf entered first, his face brightening to see that Bilbo was awake. 

"My dear hobbit! I knew you'd be alright."

"You never know anything." Bilbo murmured. A laugh followed the wizard, and Bilbo could not place it before he saw who it belonged to. 

"He knew enough to get me here though."

"Elrond!" Bilbo's eyes widened when he saw the Elf. He looked just as Bilbo remembered, though a bit tired. It was the same kind eyes and gentle smile that Bilbo had come to know as a child, and it filled his chest with warmth when they locked eyes. 

"Bilbo Baggins. I am pleased to see my treatment worked."

"Indeed." He breathed. "Though, I must admit, I don't know what that treatment was."

"It's irrelevant in any case." The Elf told him dismissively. He smiled again. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has. You've not changed a bit."

"More than I can say for you." Elrond replied kindly. His smile faded slightly. "I have fallen behind in my friendship. My sincerest apologies."

"No, it's alright." Bilbo assured him, though it really wasn't. "I'm sure you've been occupied."

"More than you might imagine." The Elf murmured. He smiled at Bilbo again. "Do you need anything? That dwarf medic is quite good."

"Ah no, I'm alright. My ankle isn't that bad right now, and as long as I don't move much, I can manage." Bilbo gave the both of them a watery smile. "How is the world outside of Bag End?"

"Managing." Gandalf replied dryly. "Things are being cleaned up and sorted." 

"Was the aftermath big?" Bilbo forced himself to ask. The Elf and wizard both paused. 

"Not as big as it could've been. Master Oakenshield had some quick thinking and hid those who could not fight in your Great Hall. None of them were touched." Elrond answered.

Bilbo smiled, suddenly finding himself a bit choked up. Of course he would be so quick witted. Though only a wall separated them, Bilbo suddenly longed to see him. 

"And the casualties among hobbits remained very low. I do believe that shortness worked in your favor this time." Gandalf continued. "Though, some did not escape, and I'm very sorry for it." 

"There's no need to be sorry for me." Bilbo said with a shake of his head. "It is not as though I lost family."

Gandalf was uncomfortably silent and Bilbo felt his stomach curl in worry. "Gandalf?"

"Your cousin Otho died. His wife Lobelia as well."

Weakly, Bilbo managed to say "Oh." He stared at the ceiling and swallowed. "How?"

"Otho was struck out of a tree. He had been using a slingshot, and well, he was found out. Miss Lobelia fought until the end, but succumbed to her injuries the next day."

Tears stung at Bilbo's eyes. When had he even seen the two of them? Were his last words to either of them even pleasant? Bilbo could only think of shuffling Lobelia out of his smial, dismissing her so easily. He never expected it to end this way. 

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"We didn't really get on." Bilbo choked out before giving a bitter laugh. "I'm sure she cursed my name until the end."

"I overheard her speaking, well yelling at Master Thorin. She was worried about you. The tension between you two, that was to be expected from family. She never hated you, I'm sure of it."

Bilbo nodded and forced his mouth into a tight, trembling line. Sometimes, he really had been convinced that she despised him. But this, hearing that she had confronted Thorin was nearly too much. He'd said such awful things to her over the years and now there was no way to apologize for it. 

"If only I'd woken sooner--"

"You would've been closer to death yourself." Elrond cut him off. "The loss may sting, but perhaps not knowing until now was for the best."

Bilbo blinked quickly, trying to will away his tears. "I suppose." His throat jerked as he swallowed, and his chest ached. Whether it was from grief or his injuries he did not know. But he suddenly could not breathe, and he gasped painfully. His heart felt as though it might burst, squeezing then pushing with a force that made tears rise to his eyes once more. 

This was his fault. He had deemed it necessary to have hobbits fight instead of simply hiding and now they were dead for it! How many could there be? Twenty? Fifty? There would be countless families where a brother or sister would never return to, and where a father or mother would no longer be able to see their children grow. Lobelia and Otho would never get to have their own family, all because of him. 

His back felt as if it were being ripped apart, and he vaguely registered that he was curling himself up. His ankle burned like fire and he gasped again as Gandalf rushed forward and tried to ease him back into his original position. 

"Bilbo, look at me. Breathe, you're alright. Elrond, fetch Master Oín!"

Bilbo knew this was ridiculous. How could he allow himself to fall into this foolish fit of panic when he deserved all that had happened? He should've ordered his fellow hobbits to hide or to flee, but never to fight and die and leave  their families behind--

"Bilbo. Lad, look at me. Can you do somethin' for me?" Bilbo looked up through tear clouded eyes and saw the general form of Oín, his details blurred. "Count to ten with me. One, two..."

Bilbo drew in a shuddering breath and did as he was told. Slowly, he mouthed the numbers and his heartbeat no longer felt so tight. His hand grabbed Oín's sleeve and held on for dear life as the dwarf eased him onto his back, still counting to ten with him. Bilbo sniffled as tears rolled down his cheeks and air was finally able to fill his lungs. Oín pushed back his hair and felt his forehead gently, before frowning. 

"He doesn't have his fever again. I think he's just overwhelmed. Bilbo, you need to rest. I don't want anyone else in here for tonight, alright?"

Bilbo nodded, breathing slowly as to overcome the pain that was now radiating from his injuries. 

"I'll get you somethin' to drink, but then I'm going to leave. Yes?"

"Okay." He whispered, voice hoarse. Oín nodded and moved away from his bedside, beckoning to Elrond and Gandalf as he went. 

"Leave him be. This is his first battle, and it's probably too much for the lad. Some rest will do him good." Oín said, and Elrond's reply was unclear as he cast a final glance at Bilbo then left the room. Bilbo's chest heaved with the force of his breathing, still trying to get enough air as to think clearly. He moved a trembling hand and wiped at his eyes, squeezing them shut until it hurt his head. 

How long he stayed like that, he did not know. But Oín came back eventually, and offered him a cup of tea, the liquid steaming in the mug. Bilbo took it and allowed Oín to help him sit up enough to drink it. It was no cup made for taste, tasting more like dirt than anything. But it appeared to be an herbal brew, and Bilbo was sure Oín was giving him whatever would work. 

"That'll take care of his pain a bit. Help you sleep too." Oín told him as he assisted Bilbo in laying down. "I'm not goin' to let anyone in here for the rest of the night, but if you need somethin', try your best to holler. I'll be in to check on you, yes?"

"Thank you." Bilbo croaked, the warmth of the tea seeping into him and already making him feel boneless. Oín gave him a flicker of a smile, obviously not enjoying the sight of Bilbo so weak. 

"Don't thank me lad. I'm only doing my job."

Oín took the cup with him and left the room. Bilbo stared up at the ceiling with drooping eyes, watched the shadows of the dying firelight move and flicker and sighed. The aftermath was appearing to be as difficult as the battle itself. 

* * *

The tea had worked for a short time, but he woke up only hours later. Now that he did not sleep out of pure need, he could hardly do so at all. He was too aware of every little noise; miscellaneous creaks and groans, and the snores of his friends. Small tremors made his hands shake and he tried to relieve his mind of the gruesome images he imagined. Whether they were real or not, he could not discern anymore. 

Bilbo's eyes widened when he heard the quiet turn of a doorknob, and his breath caught in his throat. His gaze flickered to the door in his panic, but in the darkness he could see nothing. The door creaked and the figure moving it seemed to stop, leaving Bilbo waiting with anxious, baited breath. The door closed again as Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut, scarcely able to breathe in his fear. The footsteps were heavy and unrecognizable as the approached. Bilbo clenched his hands in the blankets  and waited for whoever was there, fearing only the worst. 

"Bilbo. Wake up." 

The hobbit released his breath, opening his eyes as he stared into the darkness. 

"Thorin? What are you doing?" He whispered, hysteria palpable in his voice. Though he could not see the dwarf, he could envision him looking a bit sheepish about now. 

"I could not wait any longer. Not seeing you was driving me mad."

"You can't see me now!" Bilbo hissed. Thorin made a dismissive noise. "You're a fool for coming in here. You'll injure yourself!"

"Perhaps. But, I already snuck past Fíli and Kíli, and they'll surely wake if I go back in. And," Thorin said, now  _sounding_  sheepish. "My ribs ache. I don't want to walk anymore." 

"Your...oh Thorin! Lay down here, right now." Bilbo pushed himself up against the headboard until he was in a near sitting position, and continued to ignore the pain in his back. He pushed the pillows closer to Thorin's side and held a breath as the dwarf settled down onto the bed, in obvious pain. His breath was coming out in fast pants, and his stifled groans reached Bilbo's ears nonetheless.

Bilbo moved and nudged the blankets, lips pressed lightly against the ache of his bruises ribs. He moved them until Thorin could do the rest, pulling the blankets over his legs as he put his head against the headboard and sighed in exhaustion. Bilbo stared at his invisible form, hand moving as it searched for Thorin's own. Thorin's grip was harsh, but Bilbo could not bring himself to mind. They stayed silent for a few moments, and Bilbo wondered if Thorin had fallen asleep. 

"Are you doing alright?" Thorin asked. Bilbo nodded. 

"Yes. I would get out of bed, but my ankle wouldn't allow it. Neither would Oín."

Thorin gave a breathy laugh, and there was pain behind even that. "He's been much the same with me. I was not allowed to leave my room to come see you."

"I could've come to you. It would've been perhaps another day, maybe two."

Thorin's grip tightened further. "That is easy for you to say. But I have been awake since the morning following the battle. I have had no clue of your condition for three days, except that you hadn't woken up. Another day or two? I surely would've gone mad by then."

Bilbo sighed unhappily. "I understand that, but I am not worth you injuring yourself any further. The only reason I let you stay in here is because I don't want you keeling over trying to make it back to your room."

"How sweet." Thorin snapped, his voice hard. Bilbo huffed and pulled his hand away.  

"Stop it. You think I enjoyed not being able to see you? Do you know how worried I was that night? You looked like you were  _dying."_

_"_ And you actually were!" Thorin snarled. "Why did you have to leave your bed? The battlefield is no place for you."

"But it is for other hobbits?" Bilbo hissed. "They are my people, and I would never let them stand alone!"

"Listen to me!" Thorin managed to find his face in the dark, grabbing Bilbo's chin and holding him. Though the hobbit could not see his eyes, the puffs of Thorin's breathing was enough to tell him that they were facing each other. "You were  _sick._ You were  _dying._  Are hobbits so cruel as to make the dying fight?"

"I was not dying--"

"How would you know?" Thorin's voice was dangerously low. "You were asleep with a fever for nearly two days before the battle. You wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink. You were pale, and sickly. Death was written all over you. And that doesn't even go to speak of your condition during the battle."

"I would do it all over again." Bilbo pledged. "I would trade my life for any one of you! Oh, but you wouldn't allow that now would you? You'd throw a little fit!"

"If you died, I would sooner forfeit my own life than be angry! Do you know how much death I have seen?" Thorin's voice shook. "I have spent more than your entire lifespan being angry about it all. I cannot do it anymore, I don't have it left in me! Without you, I am finished."

Bilbo heard Thorin drag in a shuddering breath, and his hands groped about in the darkness, finding Thorin's high cheekbones. His thumb brushed near the corner of Thorin's eye, and he felt the dampness of unshed tears, on the brink of falling. Bilbo shook his head as he cupped Thorin's face, hands trembling. 

"Don't say that. Don't you ever say that."

"But it is the truth." Thorin replied desperately. His hands gripped Bilbo's wrists, thumbs brushing over his pulse as if making sure he was real. "Without you, I could not bear to live another day."

"You lived without me before." Bilbo choked out, terrified by Thorin's words. "You could do it again."

"I lived without you only out of ignorance. There is a difference between being without you because you're dead and because I must!" 

"I'm not dead! And neither are you so just stop speaking of it!" Bilbo cried hoarsely. He crushed his lips into Thorin's. It was a messy, fumbling kiss, with their noses bumping and the both of them trying to breathe. But Bilbo poured all of his emotion into it, from his desperate fear of the possibilities, to the relief of having Thorin being here with him, even if they were only arguing.

Thorin reacted in earnest, his hand slipping from Bilbo's wrist to tangle in his hair. The kiss broke not a moment after, with Thorin gasping. 

"Still hurts a bit." He said in a choked laugh, and Bilbo couldn't help but grin. He let his forehead gently meet Thorin's as they both breathed, drinking in the feeling of being with each other once more. 

It didn't take very long before Thorin fell asleep, propped up against the headboard in what looked to be quite uncomfortable. But, Bilbo reasoned, he had slept on worse things. 

Though he was relieved, and he no longer felt as if he might panic at a given moment, sleep still did not come easily to Bilbo. He lay in his bed with Thorin's sleep limp hand clasped in his own, the dwarf's breathing finally normal again. 

There was so much he felt that he was missing. He wasn't caught up on the affairs of the Shire, and even what went on in Bag End was seeming to escape him. He realized now that he was missing parts of what led up to the battle. Why had the Orcs come for Thorin? What had he done?

Bilbo looked up at the dwarf's relaxed face, his brows drawn slightly from his painful breathing. Bilbo sighed. 

Whatever it was, he would just have to address it when the time came. 

* * *

When Bilbo woke the next morning, he still felt tired. His sleep was nothing short of ineffective, and it left him groggy and exhausted. He was rather annoyed to have been woken up, as he  _knew_ he had not just come to by himself. 

Nearly silent voices registered, and Bilbo forced his eyes open. 

"I had warned Ada that he would do this. Why does he only ever listen to you?"

"Perhaps because I am older? Or less foolish." 

"Please, your age is mere minutes above mine. Besides, none here will be able to tell us apart. My foolishness will soon become your own."

"You two!" Bilbo's voice was hoarse from sleeping, but his exclamation reached the pair just fine. Bilbo stared at the twin elves with wide eyes, taking in their every detail. Beside him, Thorin stirred, groaning slightly. 

"Bilbo Baggins." One greeted jovially. "You've aged just as I had expected."

"I...Thank you? Oh Yavanna, what are you two doing here?"

"Well," the other replied. "We had to come with Ada. We would not allow the Shire to fall to destruction when we could help."

Thorin made an odd noise, finally roused from his sleep. Bilbo broke his sight with the twin elves and looked over at the dwarf, watching as he awoke. Thorin blinked harshly a few times, slightly glazed eyes drifting from Bilbo until they fell upon the brothers. He grimaced, and Bilbo couldn't help the laugh that began to bubble in his chest. 

"More elves? Bilbo, make them leave."

"Thorin, be nice!" He hissed, grinning as he looked over at them again. "This is Elrohir and Elladan. They are Elrond's sons." 

"Indeed." Said Elladan. "We've missed Bilbo, Master Dwarf, and I don't take kindly to you ordering him like that."

"Oh no, it's fine! He's just a bit grumpy!" Bilbo replied. He turned to Thorin again. "I've known them my whole life."

"And you have not seen them for over half of it." He muttered in response, jaw clenching when he tried to move. Thorin was in obvious pain, the walk from last night only having complicated his injuries. 

"I'd be delighted to talk, but," Bilbo told them, "Thorin needs some attention. Fetch Master Oín for me. I'm sure he already knows Thorin's in here."

"As you wish." Elrohir complied, looking over at the dwarf. He nudged his brother's arm and they left the room. Bilbo shifted himself into a sitting position, hissing as his leg dragged across the bed. 

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, moving hair from Thorin's face. The dwarf nodded, exhaling heavily. 

"As much as I can be." He paused for a moment. "They shouldn't have been in here without permission."

"It's fine." Bilbo tsked. "Now I don't have to shout for Oín." 

"Good for you." Thorin replied. As Thorin closed his eyes and breathed through his pain, Bilbo took in his details. What had escaped him in the dark was now evident, from the bruises and scrapes on his face, to the pallid tone of his skin that spoke of how agonizing his injuries were. Bilbo had certainly fared better, even if own movements resulted in a constant ache. 

Thorin opened his eyes and they scanned over Bilbo, dragging slowly as to not miss a single detail. The sight seemed not to please him, as his hand scrambled to find Bilbo's. 

"I'm very glad you're here." He said quietly, bringing the hand to his mouth and brushing a gentle kiss over the scuffed knuckles. Bilbo gave him a watery smile before laying his head back against the headboard next to Thorin's and listening as the ticked footsteps of a dwarf neared. 

"You scoundrel! Absolute fool!" Oín cursed as he walked in, supplies in his arms and Fíli and Kíli scrambling in behind him. Bilbo looked at Thorin and stifled a snort at his expression of resigned disinterest, only a step away from completely ignoring Oín. 

"And you Bilbo, allowing him to do this!"

"I didn't allow anything!" His voice cracked painfully as he defended himself. "Thorin was already at my bedside before I figured out who it was."

"You should've made him go back to bed."

"My ribs hurt from the walk. And, I am in a bed now."

"Oh, why I ought to--" Oín swore under his breath, grumbling something illegible as he set down his supplies. Fíli and Kíli snickered from the edge of the room, the latter shooting them a thumbs up at the display. Thorin rolled his eyes, but there was a glint in them that made Bilbo sigh pleasantly. It was a relief to see him being able to jest with the company, especially after how grave the past week had been. 

"At least you can treat one without them worrying about the other." Fíli piped up. Oín mumbled something ineligible as he went over to Thorin and pulled at his tunic, easing it off him to inspect his injuries.  

Bilbo gasped as he saw the bruises and lacerations that painted his front, many more obscured by bandages. There were healing cuts from Azog's mace, small punctures that looked red and scabbed over. There was bruises scattered across his chest with them, and Bilbo didn't even want to see the bruising beneath the bandages at his ribs. His eyes flickered and he caught sight of Thorin's arm. High on his bicep, there was a bandage wrapped around, covering the slash Bilbo remembered him receiving. Bilbo didn't doubt Oín's abilities or consistency in the least bit, so seeing the dark maroon of old blood coloring the bandage was alarming enough. 

"I'm alright." Thorin soothed, his words snapping Bilbo from his observation. The hobbit realized that his hands were shaking slightly as he reached out and touched the bandages around Thorin's arm, feeling the rough cloth. 

"This is more than I expected." He managed, eyes rising to meet Thorin's. The dwarf's expression looked hard, but Bilbo could tell that Thorin was simply upset about him being so affected by the display.

"Oín, check Bilbo."

"I'm busy checking someone else right now." He replied gruffly. Thorin scowled. 

"Check him."

There was something in his tone that made Oín looked up in surprise, before he grumbled and moved to Bilbo's side of the bed. Long ago had Bilbo stopped seeing Thorin as the company's leader, imagining them all to be equals. While the latter was still true, he suddenly realized that the dwarves had never  _stopped_ seeing Thorin as such. If anything, he had only rose higher in what was seeming to be dwarvish hierarchy!

"No, I'm really fine. Honestly." He protested, but Oín seemed deaf to his words. Fíli whispered something to his brother that had the smile fade off of Kili's face. Bilbo looked to them and back to Thorin, looking for some sort of reasoning. Thorin's eyes did not meet his, only watching as Oín checked Bilbo's ankle. He suddenly felt uneasy, as if he had fallen out with all of them within minutes. Bilbo said nothing, and only swallowed heavily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna finish this soon i swear  
> and ooooo so ambiguous


	24. Chapter 24

The life of a peasant left much to be desired. 

 Though Thorin had never told Bilbo explicitly, he had implied that he lived a poor life in Erebor. His family had been born into poverty, and though it was better with him than it had been in his father's dwarfhood, there was still much that their family lacked. Whether it was food or warmth during the winter, Thorin had grown up wishing for what he could not have. His longing was only fueled by the stories his grandfather and father told him, of a time long past and something that must be set right. 

 He was lucky though. Living in the poorest part of Erebor, with families who were barely surviving themselves, Thorin was raised with sword and hunting lessons, allowing him to scrounge up extra food. His raven brought news he would've never known and by some miracle his parents and grandparents were able to find steady work. It wasn't a safe life, nor was it a healthy one. 

 But it was life nonetheless, and Thorin learned to be grateful for it. 

 Now, he wondered what life even meant anymore. So much had changed, and Bilbo knew none of it. He saw Thorin as his intended, a dwarf merchant hailing from the Blue Mountains. He knew only bits of his murky history, stained with blood and lies and resentment. 

 Thorin himself learned from Gandalf things his own family had not been able to tell him. He was still adjusting, still healing. 

 But so was Bilbo. He doubted that Bilbo had no questions, and they would have to be answered at some point. Thorin could not know what to expect and it tore at him, ripping him to shreds as he worried about what could happen. 

* * *

Due to the extent of his injuries, Thorin was confined to bed long after Bilbo was. After his nightly activities, Oín had moved him back into his room and was determined to make him stay there. It made an unfound feeling thrum through his body, taking his breath away and making his jaw clench. He did as he was forced, and decided to bear through it. 

 With his back better and his ankle held fast in a cast, Bilbo was able to be up and about, exchanging his bedroom for his study as he set to handling Shire affairs once more. He was not the Thain, but took on some of what Thorin assumed were the position's duties nonetheless. 

 He came to see Thorin several times a day when he could spare it, standing by as Oín checked on his condition. How long he stayed for varied, as some days had more important matters than others.  

 Lunch was a near constant thing though, and Thorin would wait patiently for the sound of feet to approach. A pair of crutches had been hastily made, and the sound of their wood clacking against the floor as Bilbo came to his door became one of the most delightful sounds in all of Middle Earth. 

 With crutches however, Bilbo could not carry much. Someone always assisted him in bringing in food; mostly Oín or Fíli and Kíli, but on the most aggravating occasions, one of Elrond's sons. 

 Looking at them made his blood boil. Not because they were elves--though that did not help their case--but because of the hurt they had caused Bilbo. So young when his father died, and neither of them sent even their condolences. To have only silence when his mother passed as well was beyond reasonable, and the thought of Bilbo being alone in Bag End with none of his  _friends_  even appearing in a letter was nearly a breaking point. 

 But Bilbo seemed happy to have their presence and Thorin begrudgingly accepted the help they gave to Bilbo. There was tension between them undoubtedly, but Thorin would not be the one to breach it. If anyone wanted to lose Bilbo's favor, he would let the elves do it first. 

 Everything seemed to make him angry lately. His own kin, his injuries, even the various creaks of Bag End. Seeing the company being able to move around and be free while he was confined to bed like some prisoner made anger seep through him, absorbing deep into his bones and making his hands shake. 

 But Bilbo was able to soothe the feeling. Seeing his face lightened Thorin's heavy heart, even if the hobbit's face was marred by the stresses of the Shire. 

 Thorin mapped out the creases at Bilbo's eyes and the circles beneath them as Oín gave him his bi daily check. Bilbo seemed unaware of it, his eyes focused on Oín's movements. 

 "That cut on your arm is healin' nicely. Not infected. Ribs seem to be doin' okay too.  Bedrest is servin' you well." The old dwarf quipped as he finished looking over him. Bilbo's face relaxed, and he smiled at Thorin. 

 "How long until I can get out of bed?" Thorin asked. 

 Oín paused. "A day or two. You'll have to rest often though. Any major pain in your ribs, and I want you back in bed."

 That soured Thorin's good mood. "I've managed through worse."

 "This isn't about managin'." Oín sighed. "I'm makin' sure you heal correctly, not just heal."

 "Hmph." Thorin snorted. "Don't think I'll be waiting for you to give me permission tomorrow."

 "I wouldn't doubt it." Oín snapped. He gathered the small cache of supplies he brought in and left the room, grumbling to himself. Thorin felt a self satisfied smirk grow. 

 "That was rude!" 

 He looked over at Bilbo. The hobbit's arms were hooked on his crutches and he stared at Thorin reproachfully. 

 "I was telling him the truth." Thorin defended. Bilbo rolled his eyes. 

 "Look, I understand that you don't like being stuck here. But you were injured very badly! Nobody wants you to have complications because the healing process was rushed along."

 "I am healing fine." Thorin said gently. "Being without you for so long is more painful than all my wounds.""

 Bilbo seemed to debate how he wanted to respond to Thorin's words. He finally gave in with a sigh and approached the bed. Thorin's hand went out and brushed the curls at the base of Bilbo's head as the hobbit leaned his crutches up against the wall. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. 

 "It will only be awhile longer. Than we can get everything sorted out and it'll be fine." Bilbo said, and Thorin felt something seize within him. Why did Bilbo think things between them needed to be sorted? Did he know?  _How?_  

 Thorin's face did not betray him and his expression remained calm. "I am anticipating it." He said. 

 Bilbo laughed quietly, and the tight feeling in his chest disappeared. Thorin gave him a small smile and resisted the urge to rub at the odd feeling in his chest. 

 Very odd indeed. 

* * *

 

The amount of snow that had fallen made for a lasting winter. December turned to January and there was a string of funerals early in the month. Though he was allowed to leave his bed now, Thorin was not able to disguise the pain that still plagued his ribs. As a result, he ended up back in bed nearly every day. 

 Bilbo attended every funeral. It pained Thorin to see him so blank after each one, only his eyes betraying him. They spoke of his bone deep grief, of his own undeserved guilt that Thorin would never be able rid him of. 

 His clothes stiff with cold, Bilbo would sit on the bed and stare at the floor as Thorin rubbed his back and tried to whisper to him. The hobbit would not reply, his hands only shaking as whispy breath escaped. Thorin felt fury bubble within him through all the while, at all who had caused him pain. How dare they cause Bilbo pain? They could not prevent their own deaths, but Thorin blamed them nonetheless. Bilbo was  _his_ , only  _he_  could make Bilbo feel such ugly emotions. 

 Within a week, all the bodies had been buried, and Thorin was able to spend more than a few hours out of bed without being ridden with pain. This was both a good and a bad thing. He was able to be with Bilbo every moment, helping him walk with his crutches or get through the business of the Shire. Isengrim was quite old, and with everything that had happened, it proved to be too much for him to handle alone. 

 But Thorin was also forced to meet the less pleasant things that lurked in the Shire. Namely, Elves. Those scum sons of the Elven lord still lurked, as did their father. Bilbo would spend some his free time with them now, speaking of past times and laughing as if they had never wronged him.

Thorin wanted to seize them by their necks and  _squeeze_. 

 Disrest bubbled within his own kin. Since the battle, their had been a rift formed between Dwalin and Orí, or perhaps between their siblings themselves. Thorin was not sure. The whole matter was never spoken of explicitly, and Thorin knew only snippets of what his company had told him. 

 Seeing them divided cut him, and made him think of what he had ruined in his stride. 

* * *

The room was quiet as Thorin watched Bilbo work, the hobbit scribbling away at letters. Many had been reluctant to leave the safety of their homes lately, especially when the smell of burnt Orc bodies still lingered in the air. As such, letters were the main form of communication, carried by the young hobbits who had their sense of independence only strengthened by the battle. 

 And a battle it had been. The past few months had been deemed the Second Fell Winter, but the fighting itself took the title of The Battle of Hobbiton. The Orcs had a goal in mind when they came to the Shire, and as such, the other Farthings were mostly left alone. There had been stragglers who broke away, small groups that were quickly felled by Elves, Rangers or the particularly daring hobbit. 

 Thorin had yet to muster the courage to tell him why the Orcs had come there specifically. 

 Bilbo finally set down the quill with a groan, reclining back into his chair and moving his fingers. Thorin looked up and watched him, eyes following the line of tension that faded as he stretched. He unconsciously licked his lips. 

 "Finished?"

 "For now." Bilbo said. "There's a lot of questions I don't have to answer to, and I'd rather not lie." Thorin tensed. "Nonetheless, I'll just have to think up some things I suppose."

 "Yes, it appears so." Thorin replied. He listened for a moment to the sounds of the company that carried through Bag End. A few of them were out, mostly assisting Oín as he helped to take care of any residual injuries in the nearby hobbits. Dwarves were loud talkers by anyone's standards, but it was in their nature. In a small space like Bilbo's smial, it was expected for their voices to carry. 

"Lunch? I'm quite ready to eat." Bilbo proposed. Thorin gave him a smile and nodded. 

 "Of course." He rose from the spare chair in Bilbo's study and retrieved the hobbit's crutches. Bilbo took them and mumbled a thank you, then stood. Thorin had memorized the small mannerisms of Bilbo long ago, and learned the new ones quickly. Each time he stood, he let out a small breath, as if prepping himself for the fact that he was partly immobilized. Then he rose with a slight groan and looked up at Thorin.

_It will always be me,_ a voice curled in his mind. 

 Thorin let Bilbo go ahead of him and followed behind, ribs aching as he walked. The pain was not bad now, instead coming as a wave of tenderness. His eyes were trained on the labored movements of the hobbit, and Thorin resisted the urge to help him. Already he had tried multiple times before. Bilbo allowed the first time, but steadily grew more snappish after, finally ordering Thorin to leave him be. So he complied, ending up battling hands that itched to grip Bilbo and be the one to lead him.

 "You can sit down." Bilbo said when they entered the kitchen. "I'll go fetch something from the pantry."

 "No, let me." Thorin began to protest, but was silenced with a chilly look by Bilbo. Dutifully, he sat down and watched Bilbo walk out of the room. He sat for only a moment before he heard the front door open and voices follow. 

 Thorin groaned as he realized who the voices belonged to. Clenching his hands within each other, he tried to listen to them, but found their voices to be too quiet. If anything, it grew quieter as the approached the kitchen. Thorin glared over at them when the twin Elves entered, their conversation dying when Thorin's presence was noticed. 

 "Ah. Master Dwarf." One of them greeted coolly. "Where is Bilbo?"

 "Busy." He grunted. The other brother narrowed his eyes and stared at Thorin. 

 It annoyed him endlessly that he couldn't tell the two of them apart. Bilbo was an expert at it, and no matter how many times the hobbit clarified the supposed difference, Thorin could not see it. 

 "What do you want?" He sneered at the Elf. How dare they barge in here? "Bilbo is busy. You can both go."

 "I do not believe you are in any position to tell us what to do." 

 "And I don't think you belong here." Thorin snapped. "You've done nothing good for Bilbo, especially when he needed it. You have no right to even be near him." 

 "And you do?" One asked. "You are nothing but a lie. I'm sure he doesn't know. How could  _you_  ever be honest? No valor in dwarves, no matter their background."

 Thorin stood up sharply and reached out for the front of the Elf's tunic. He bared his teeth and felt his hands shake with fury as his head spun. "I may be shorter than you, but remember you whelp. I am  _always_  above you."

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

 Thorin's head snapped around at Bilbo's shout. The hobbit limped in as quickly as possible, his eyes wide. "What is going on?!"

 "This Elf disrespected me!" Thorin defended. "I would have his head were we elsewhere."

 "Your dwarf is false!" The Elf proclaimed. "Bilbo, you must listen to me. He is not who he says he is." 

 "Do not listen to him." Thorin commanded. "I have only ever been truthful. It is him and his brother who are false!"

 "Thorin Oakenshield is a  _King_! He is the reason why the Orcs came to the Shire!"

 "Stop! Just stop it!" Bilbo exclaimed. "Elohir, you  _cannot--"_

 "But he speaks the truth!" Elladan insisted. "Bilbo, we would never lie to you. Ask your dwarf, you will see."

 "This is absurd!" Bilbo huffed, but he nonetheless asked, "Thorin, what of their words?"

 The dwarf's mouth was dry and his tongue thick, the words catching in his throat. His head pounded in the back, a hard ache that was excruciating in non physical way. He opened his mouth, and no sound came out.

 "Thorin?" Bilbo asked again, his words now tentative. There was doubt in their syllables, so unfounded and  _betraying_ that Thorin felt anger well up. 

 "This conversation is over." He growled. Bilbo's expression warped and Thorin recognized the look of determination. He would not give up, and it made an odd sickness churn in his belly. 

 "Thorin. Do not hide things from me."

 "It is none of your concern."

 "It is all of his concern! You are a liar!" Elladan said. Thorin reached out and seized the front of the Elf's tunic, palm itching to hurt. 

 "Thorin! Stop, leave him be!" Incapacitated by his crutch, Bilbo tried to bodily wedge himself between the two. Thorin could feel his breath quicken as his hand slackened and he stared at Bilbo in open rage. 

 "You would dare let him speak of me like that?" He asked, voice dangerously low. Bilbo puffed out his chest and nodded. 

 "You won't tell me anything! How am I supposed to refuse him if you won't say anything otherwise?"

 "You  _will_  listen to me." Thorin grabbed Bilbo's chin sharply, yanking his head up so their eyes met. There was an outcry from the two Elves, but Bilbo held up a hand, silencing their move to distance the two of them. 

 "I will do no such thing." Bilbo's voice was strong and clear, but Thorin could see the inner quake in his wide eyes. It made a sick sense of satisfaction curl up inside, to know that it was  _he_ who could make Bilbo  _tremble._  

 "I am your  _intended_. Your  _leader_." 

 "Only a foolish leader reacts in anger." Bilbo said, and it was like a band snapping. All control disappeared and the ache in his head grew, the itch in his palm too great to hold back. It happened in a flash, before anyone could react. Thorin's free hand flew out and connected with the soft skin of Bilbo's cheek, making a resounding slap  in the small kitchen. 

 Stronger than he would ever intended to be, the slap sent Bilbo stumbling back. He cried out in pain as he fell to the floor, his foot dragging across the floor. Thorin looked at him and felt  _joy. Bilbo was his. He could do whatever he wanted and Bilbo would never leave, never disobey again, he was his, his, hishishis--_

Like a haze clearing, Thorin felt the air be knocked from his lungs. His hands began to shake and his breath could not fill his body. Bilbo sat upon the floor, his hand cradling his cheek as the Elves kneeled beside him, accusations thundering in their expressions. Thorin could not breathe as he stumbled back, mouth slack in sheer horror. His ribs were on fire with exertion as he escaped from the kitchen, stumbling down the hall and away from what he had done. His head was spinning as he gripped the wall, nails trying to dig into the wood. He heard voices, speaking. No, no they were yelling. Screaming in his head with echoing words that made bile rise into his throat. 

 "You didn't protect him!" Dori said angrily. "Because of you, he was hurt!"

 Was this the problem between Dwalin and Ori? His injuries?

 "I tried! I was fightin' and I lost focus. Ori knows that!"

 "It doesn't matter." Nori's voice was cold. "You claim to be his One, but you still let him be injured. No dwarf with valor would allow that to happen!"

 "What do you know of the trait? You're a dirty little thief!"

 "You don't deserve him!"

 "He's mine!"

 "He is his own! You will leave him alone from now on!" Dori's voice was like ice and rock, hard and frigid. 

 "We are intended--"

 "Not anymore! I  _will not_ give consent!"

 Thorin knew Dwalin was right. It was only a momentary lapse. But Ori had been injured nonetheless. And Bilbo. Oh Mahal above, Bilbo had been so close to death because Thorin did not protect him. 

 Thorin gagged on the stifling air of Bag End. What had he done? Oh Valar forgive him, he had raised a hand to his One, already so weak from his injuries in the battle. He was scum, the absolute vile of Middle Earth. Bilbo was hurt because of him, it was all his fault. 

 With his last bit of sense, Thorin managed to open the door to he and Bilbo's room. He closed the door and sat against it, hands reaching up and tangling in his hair. He didn't deserve Bilbo. He was so kind and good and Thorin was a  _monster_ , the same abomination as the old King of Erebor. The same as every Orc or Warg that murdered a hobbit and left its family to grieve. 

 He tried to breathe deeply, but to no avail. With shaking hands, Thorin closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness. 

* * *

It seemed like such a short time later when someone knocked on the door. 

 It wasn't Bilbo, that was obvious. No, the hand was too heavy, too impersonal to be the hobbit he had wronged, or any of his kin for that matter. 

 "Thorin." The dwarf's breath caught in his throat at Gandalf's voice. His voice was scratchy when he spoke, tears choked in the back of his throat and ruining his speech. 

 "Be gone." He rasped. "Unless you are here to throw me to wild dogs, leave me alone." 

 "I would do no such thing, nor will I leave. Act like a grown dwarf and open this door."

 "Why would I do that? If you will not punish me for my crime, then there is no reason to face you."

 "Bilbo wishes to speak with you." 

 Thorin's blood ran cold. He shook his head and inhaled raggedly. "No. No, I cannot face him." 

 "This is not your decision." Gandalf replied. "He will come to the door and speak, I assure you. If you feel rotten for what you've done, you owe it to him to at least let him speak!" 

 "You were not there." Thorin muttered harshly. "You did not see what I did. To reach out in rage and hurt your intended it one of the most heinous crimes in dwarf culture. I wish it were the days of old now, and they would send me to death." 

 "No one except yourself is wishing that upon you! Now, open the door and come into the kitchen. It is time to be truthful and tell him what he must know!"

 "He will--"

 "If you are about to say anything about a negative reaction, I dare say you know nothing of Bilbo." Gandalf sighed. "Open the door." 

 Thorin contemplated not listening. Would it not be easier to sit and stew in his own crimes? 

 But if Bilbo did indeed come to the door, he would only be disrespecting him by not facing him. The wizard was right; he owed a real conversation to Bilbo.

 The knob felt foreign in his hand as he twisted it. Eyes downcast, he could not bring himself to look Gandalf in the eye as he left the room. The wizard said nothing more as they walked. Thorin felt as though he were someone going to the execution, Bilbo's inevitable words the blade that would end his life.

 Bag End was deathly silent as they walked. Thorin didn't know if everyone else was in their rooms or if they had simply all gone out, giving them the space to ruin themselves. 

 Thorin could nearly step no further when they came to the kitchen. He could see Bilbo sitting there, a cup of tea in his hands. His fingers slid over the smooth side of the cup, the hobbit's eyes downcast into the liquid. 

 At the sound of their steps, Bilbo looked up and their eyes met. There was a red mark on his cheek, the laceration high on his cheekbone. It made guilt well up even more within Thorin, and stole his words before he could apologize. 

 Bilbo opened his mouth once before closing it sharply. He only beckoned to the table with his hand, and Thorin trudged over to it with his eyes still downcast. 

 He took a seat. The silence between them was deafening. Thorin could not bring himself to look at Bilbo, eyes only tracing the grain of the table's wood. Gandalf stood near the door, watching the scene. 

 "Thorin. Look at me." Bilbo spoke at last. Thorin swallowed heavily, and slowly dragged his eyes up. He stared at Bilbo's neck, unable to look him in the eyes. 

"My eyes. Look at my eyes!" Bilbo said desperately. Thorin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, breathing through his nose. The guilt was weighing down on his shoulders like boulders, pulling him down deeper into a pit of despair. He forced himself to look into Bilbo's eyes, scarcely able to breathe. 

 "I'm not angry." Bilbo whispered. "I'm really not. Gandalf explained what happened; you were not yourself. I cannot blame you for this." 

 "Nothing he said could make this okay." Thorin rasped, his voice wavering. Bilbo nodded. 

 "It's not okay. But I still don't blame you. Thorin, you rarely speak of your past in Erebor, and he fears that it has made you overlook something important. Will you let him speak?"

 "Don't make excuses for me!" Thorin said. "I wish I was in Erebor now, so that my life might be taken for this crime."

 "Will you let him speak?" Bilbo asked again, obviously struggling to keep his voice level. Thorin nodded, his eyes becoming downcast once more. 

 Gandalf cleared his throat. "I have known many dwarves in my life. They are imperfect just like every other race. Most notably is the disease that often plagues those who live in wealth. Have you ever heard of gold sickness?"

 "Not much." Thorin lied. Where was this blasted wizard going?

 "I had thought as much. Gold sickness is a disease of the mind. It worms its way into the brains of dwarves who live in comfort. They often take a hoard as a dragon would, and become violently protective of it. The disease is no mild affair, and many of those afflicted will never snap from it."

 "It is inborn in all dwarves?" Bilbo asked. Gandalf nodded. 

 "Indeed. Some will have resistance to it, others will not. Anyone can fall prey."

 "What is the point of this?" Thorin asked hoarsely. 

 "Gandalf believes that you have it. The symptoms fit, don't they Gandalf?" 

 "From what you've told me, yes." The wizard replied. "Irritability, over protectiveness, a general sense of not being themselves. The hoard is the most important part. A dwarf will take something he covets above all else, and will do anything to have it." 

 "What are you saying?"

 "Thorin, I believe Bilbo could be classified as your hoard. There is nothing wrong with being protective of that who you love, but lashing out against kin as he told me you've done is too far. Bilbo agrees with me on this; you have not been yourself." 

 "It's only stress from after the battle. I am not mad." Thorin declared, shooting a look at the wizard. Bilbo sighed. 

 "Stress? Thorin, I was there as well, and you don't see me going off on people. I'm sorry, but what Gandalf has told me fits. I believe him," 

 "I am not  _mad!"_  Thorin shot up from his chair and looked between the two of them. "The  _greedy_  go mad! The  _selfish_! I am  _nothing_  like that King, kin or not!"

 "No one said you were like him." Gandalf replied placidly. "But you did just admit to being kin with the King of Erebor. Perhaps it is time Bilbo knew everything." 

 Thorin looked at the hobbit, whose expression showed only shock. Gandalf had tailored this conversation to his own plans, and none of it was known to Bilbo. 

 "It isn't important." Thorin muttered. "The past is dead." 

 "But it is important." Gandalf told him. "King Frór is dead, and the kingdom knows of the past. You will have to make a choice." 

 "It is dead to me! None of it matters!" Thorin turned hastily to Bilbo. "Listen not. The past isn't important. Right? None of it matters?"

 Bilbo expression was torn. He worried his lip with his teeth, and glanced over at Gandalf. He looked distinctly nervous, and Thorin's heart fell.

 "Tell me. Thorin, I will tell you all that you wish to know about me. I believe I have. But I expect the same in return. This is no meager thing. There is a small army of dwarves from Erebor camped out there you know!  They came to the Shire and fought our battle because of you. 

 "I need to know. Don't think that I don't trust you, or that I think you're lying. I know you have a reason why you can't tell me. But you're wrong. I will not judge you. I will not blame you for anything. Thorin, you are not evil. Misfortune was not your doing. So I beg of you, please tell me. Tell me what it is you are hiding."

 Thorin was silent. He stared at Bilbo for a moment before his eyes trailed down, locking onto his own hands. Hands that caused this. 

 "Do you know anything of it so far?"

 "Just that you're related to the royalty of Erebor apparently." Bilbo laughed tiredly. "I know what you told me when we were first getting to know each other. Just that." 

 "I have never lied to you. Never." Thorin vowed, hands skittering across the table to seize Bilbo's. The hobbit allowed it wholeheartedly, squeezing his hands. 

 "I know love, I know. Just tell me."

 Thorin took a breath. "I was born into poverty. The lowest class in Ereborian society. Back then, Erebor was thriving, and it was difficult to be as poor as we were. But it happened. I had grown up believing that we were simply just down on our luck, that my family had always been descendants of beggars. My parents didn't speak of their childhood, nor did my grandparents. They were always very secretive, but I always thought it to be their nature. 

 "As I grew older, my grandfather began to have these 'slips'. I would hear him muttering about the King, and how he had been betrayed. Several times, it grew so bad that he would rant about it, screaming about his birthright and destiny. I didn't know what it meant for a time, told that he was simply old, and his mind was going. But a few weeks before the accident that I told you of, they all sat me down and told me.

 "My grandfather was the brother of King Frór. Older in fact, and thus the heir to the throne. One morning, it was found that Daín had died in his sleep. This is what the kingdom was told, but my family believed Frór had instead arranged his death, poisoning him or some other thing.

 "My grandfather told me that Frór had never seemed odd. If anything, he was more social that Thrór was. But weeks after Daín's death, Thrór was cut from the line by Frór. He said that Frór threatened to tell all of the kingdom that he had been to one to kill Daín in an attempt to get the throne sooner. Frór was well liked and Thrór was more aloof. My grandfather was no idiot and knew how it would turn out if he disobeyed. 

 "And thus he was cast out, along with Dwalin and Balin's grandfather and his family. A cover was made that they had gone missing while on a hunting trip and never seen again. They were forced to cut their beards and relinquish all royal marks, and were then cast into the poorest of all districts. There they lived, marrying and having their own families. The truth was passed down from Thrór to my father, and their spouses were respectively told. My father had been determined to move us up in society, and feigned ignorance of the whole matter for awhile. 

 "In the months prior to the accident, they had begun to set up a plan to reveal the truth. I do not know why my father became involved, but as their cause started, I was told of it. They had planned to siege the castle and take to the ramparts and somehow reveal the truth. It was never a solid plan, just the frenzied desires of old dwarves.

 "They all had jobs in one of the mines then. My grandparents and my father. My mother was a seamstress, and stated at home with us. Days before their plan was set to be enacted, the mine collapsed. Nearly 50 were killed in it, and many more injured. In the craze that followed, my mother found out from some informant that the King knew of the plan and knew where we lived. He had known all along, and we were set to be executed for treason, set up to have said to caused the collapse. 

 "Of course we fled. We took only what we could, and left at once. You know of our journey to the Blue Mountains."

 "Why did you go back? If you knew how dangerous it was, why did you go back to trade?" Bilbo finally asked. Thorin gave a small shake of his head. 

 "Trading was just a cover. I wanted to know if it was how I remembered it. I needed to see Erebor once more. And Fíli and Kíli; they needed to know how beautiful it was.  Even if I could never go back, they needed to see their homeland." 

 Silence grew over them as Thorin finished. Bilbo said nothing, simply staring at their joined hands on the table. Thorin felt his heart sink and looked away. 

 "I do believe that is where I come in." Gandalf spoke suddenly. Thorin glanced over at him. 

 "Pardon?" Bilbo said. Gandalf avoided looking at him. 

 "After meeting Thorin, something about him made me suspicious. The name was too familiar somehow. I travelled to Erebor after, wanting to solve this. Of course, it's in good taste to treat a wizard with respect, so I was welcomed by King Frór. He was not sane." Gandalf shook his head. 

 "He had been driven mad with gold sickness long ago. He was very old at this point, and very weak. His heir Daín was running the kingdom at that point. But he still had complete control over all decisions. Erebor was not it's old place of splendor, but had instead fallen into economic depression from the King's greed and hostility with others.

 "I had to sneak about for weeks to find my answer. The strongholds of Erebor's records and important documents were being closely guarded. Though knocking out the guards would've been easy, I was rather adamant not to encounter any repercussions just yet. 

 "I managed to find the original copies of the royal line, among other things. They were stashed in the darkest corner of the stronghold, shoved into a tiny space. I believe Frór had ordered them destroyed and someone had hidden them instead. I was lucky they had remained hidden those hundreds of years, or else I would not have been able to confront Frór."

 "And you did?" Bilbo asked. Gandalf nodded.

 "Indeed. There was a royal court meeting going on when I entered and made my declaration. I do believe it had been a common legend among those in Erebor that Thrór had not been killed on a hunting trip, and of Frór's officials, only two rose to challenge me. Daín was, well he didn't know what to think. I don't believe he had never seen to evil that lurked in his uncle, and was thus inclined to believe me. As I approached, Frór drew his sword. I had to do nothing, as he told the story himself. After a few minutes of listening to him go on about how it was his destiny and how he'd done nothing wrong, Daín ordered him to be arrested. Frór was old, but he was not a fool. He knew he'd be found guilty. Before anyone could touch him, he slayed himself. He was rushed to medics, but there was nothing to do. Frór is thus dead, and the truth it known. Erebor is free from him."

 "Bilbo," Thorin said tentatively, "When I went back to Erebor, Frór found out. Gandalf told me that he had sent Orcs after the company. The pack that we met on our first leg of the journey must've been a scouting group. But the others, they came here. I can not describe how sorry I am to have brought this upon you. If I had known what I would cause, I would've let myself been slain by them and--"

 "Stop. Just stop." Bilbo cut him off. Thorin could feel Bilbo's hands shaking in his own. "I need some time to process all this. Excuse me." 

 He let go of Thorin's hands and grabbed his crutches, hoisting himself off his seat and away from the table. Thorin watched as he went, his hopes sunken. Gandalf looked at him with pity. 

"Give him time. It's just too much to take in right now."

 "I hope you're right." Thorin muttered, and covered his face with his hands. 

* * *

Hours later, when the company had returned from wherever they had been sent. He assumed that someone had heard the fight and took the hint, but no one would fess us. Dinner came and went, and Thorin did not eat. He sat in the parlor, staring into the fire. He sat in the chair opposite of Bilbo's, silent as the warm flame flickered and popped. 

 He wondered how things would proceed from here. Never had they had a fight such as this, and never had Thorin revealed so much of his past. Would Bilbo wish him to leave? Thorin would do so if he asked, and not give him any grief. He didn't deserve it. 

 "Uncle?" Came Kíli's tentative voice. Thorin looked over at him, but said nothing.

 "We uh, left you something to eat. Bombur cooked, so it's edible. Everyone is going to bed so...well goodnight."

 "Goodnight." Thorin replied as he turned away, voice cracking. Kíli lingered for a second before disappearing. The dwarf listened as his footsteps went off, hearing his nephew's voice mingle with Fíli's. The shut of the door was too faint for Thorin to hear, but he knew that it had closed. 

 His eyes trailed across the fire and mantel, eventually settling on the portraits of Bilbo's parents. They were the same as they had been the first time Thorin saw them, the details flickering in the fire light. It was as if he could feel their eyes upon him, pondering what his next move would be. 

 Thorin rose from the chair, his ribs aching with the effort. The day had been more strenuous then he probably should've endured, and now he was feeling it. His feet scuffed across the cool wooden floors as he walked to Bilbo's room. His heart began to hammer, thrumming wildly as he stopped in front of the closed door. His fist clenched; should he knock? Or just walk in? Knocking seemed too impersonal, like they weren't even the best friends they were beneath the courtship. 

 Taking a breath, Thorin eased the door open. A candle sat lit on the bedside table, casting bits of light onto Bilbo. He was laying down, though he was still awake. Bilbo turned his head when the door opened, their eyes locking. 

 "Thorin." Bilbo hoisted himself until he was sitting. He looked so vulnerable, so alone that Thorin couldn't help but stumble into the room, his hand shaking as it closed the door behind him. They were at a standstill for a moment, neither blinking and only scarcely breathing. 

 Bilbo held open his arms. "Come here." 

 Thorin rushed forward, gathering Bilbo into a hug. Thorin could only breathe a ragged sigh of relief when Bilbo buried his nose into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping around his back. 

 "I'm so sorry." He whispered to Bilbo, feeling the hobbit sniffle. "Oh, if I could take it back--"

 "It's fine. I could never be angry with you over this." Bilbo assured him. He blinked rapidly, trying to force back tears. "I love you, Thorin. But oh Yavanna, you must be able to speak to me of this. This could've been so awful if I was less understanding or if you were more volatile. Do you understand me?" Bilbo pulled away and grabbed Thorin's face, holding him so their eyes were level. "Never again. No more secrets. We'll be okay. Say it."

 "We'll be okay." Thorin repeated. Bilbo grinned shakily as he nodded. He pulled Thorin into a kiss, their mouths meeting like they were made for each other. Thorin's hands cupped the base of Bilbo's head as they put their foreheads against one another's. Bilbo's hand moved to brush away loose strands of hair from Thorin's face. 

 "We still have matters to speak of." Bilbo told him. "But not tonight. Here, into bed." He pushed over as Thorin climbed in, shuffling beneath the blankets. Thorin was careful not to touch Bilbo's ankle, instead allowing him to curl his way onto Thorin so he could move as he pleased. They spoke no more after that. When Thorin fell asleep, it was to the sound of Bilbo's breathing and his own relieved heartbeat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bluhhhh i'm so done with school finals have taken all my creativity from me
> 
> also i lost my beta so if there's any mistakes sorry!! i'll get around to fixing them


	25. Chapter 25

Time went slowly in the Shire, its passage marked only by the melting of the snow. Spring was still blanketed in the stuff, though considerably less then it had been. Wiser from the first Fell Winter, drains were made to direct the heavy flow of melting snow, directing the water elsewhere to prevent flooding. It was more peaceful than the aftermath of the first, and for that, Bilbo was glad.  

And while it was peaceful amongst the inhabitants of Bag End, something was still off about it. Bilbo didn't know if some order had been lost during the winter, but moments of ease were not the same as they were before. Ori and Dwalin were not as close as they had been, though Bilbo thought the reason was preposterous. Thorin had given him the basics, and Fíli and Kíli provided the juicy details. Though Bag End was large, those within could still not escape. 

Though he and Thorin had gotten over that  _incident,_ they had yet to speak of what would happen now. Bilbo didn't know Thorin's feelings on being royalty. He seemed angry to have been wronged, yet sorry for what it had brought upon them. Did that mean he would want to be King, or did he view the stakes as being too high? The more Bilbo thought about it, he realized he would go anywhere Thorin asked him to.  Erebor was far yes, but he could still communicate with those in the Shire via letter. A visit every few years wouldn't be a problem either. 

Bilbo would do as Thorin asked of him not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Shire or Erebor, as long as he was with him, things would be alright. 

* * *

It saddened Bilbo in a way to watch as those who had lingered in the Shire through the winter to provide assistance began to leave. The Rangers had departed soon after the battle was over, and only those who were injured had stayed a bit longer. Elrond's small army had all but disappeared back to Rivendell, taking their commander and his sons with them. While Elohir and Elladan had put up a fight about staying longer, Elrond was firm in his request that they come with him. Bilbo didn't doubt that Elrond had come to know what had conspired between the two of them, Thorin and himself, and saw that simply taking his sons back would ease some of the tension. Bilbo was teary eyed as he said goodbye to them, but when they were gone, he felt as though he could breathe, no longer worrying for Thorin, nor for what past events their presence brought up. 

Gandalf of course stayed. Due to Dwalin and Ori's trouble, they no longer resided in the Man sized bedroom together, each dwarf instead taking to the room that their respective brothers shared. Bilbo doubted that they had wanted such a thing, but he heard no protests from either one of them. Most days, Gandalf rose before Bilbo could and would set off somewhere, coming back late when everyone else had already retired. What he was doing, Bilbo did not know. But the winter had restored some of the trust in the wizard that Bilbo had lost over time, and he left Gandalf to his own business. 

The army of dwarves departed, leaving only a small group of about 15. Bilbo didn't know why they stayed; perhaps that's where Gandalf went to each day? Thorin didn't speak to any of them as far as Bilbo knew, the dwarf choosing to stay inside the smial as much as possible. While he could have gone back to the smithy already if he so wished, Thorin shut himself away, busying himself by spending time with the company and Bilbo. 

Even between them, there was an odd sort of peace that seemed to dangle above Bilbo's head. He was happy with Thorin, and glad to see the dwarf returning to be his old self. But nonetheless, Bilbo wondered why he would get such a rush of anxiety sometimes, his heart pounding as his brain warned to be careful. Be careful about what? Thorin and him? No, they were fine. They had endured bad times, and came out stronger. Bilbo reasoned that perhaps it was just some lasting unease from the battle, choosing to linger in his head as he had heard it to do. The idea that something further would happen and ruin them was utterly preposterous to him.

* * *

Bilbo woke up to yelling. It was a quick jolt, his body jerking as the loud voices permeated his consciousness. Thorin stirred beside him, mumbling incoherently as he buried his face in the pillow. Bilbo blinked a few times, his eyes bleary. The yelling stopped for a moment. 

The sound of a horrendous crash filled his ears and stole his breath, and he reached for Thorin's shoulder. The dwarf woke up then, eyes snapping open and looking around for the disturbance. Bilbo could make out Ori's voice, followed by Nori's. 

"Oh Yavanna..." Bilbo murmured worriedly, trying to hurry his way out of bed. His ankle gave a small twinge, having come out of its cast only a few days before. 

"Bilbo, wait." Thorin called, shifting and rising from his sleeping position. Bilbo didn't listen as he hurried out of the room, walking into the hall as the shouting intensified. He caught sight of Fíli running into Dwalin and Balin's room, his voice dissolving into the rest. Bilbo went to the doorway and froze, eyes wide at the mess in front of him. 

Dwalin had Dori on the floor, his meaty hands clenched into fists as he wailed on the dwarf. To say that Dori was not doing the same was false, getting a punch in not as often, but with more force. Their limbs flailed, kicking and pounding and fueled by anger. Dwalin's face was bright red, both from his flushed skin and the blood that was pouring from his nose. Dori's lip was bleeding heavily, blood dribbling down onto his clothes and the floor. The rest of the company was trying to break up the fight. 

"Stop! Stop it, what's going on?!" Bilbo shrilled, rushing in and jumping into the fray. He caught sight of Ori's tear stained face as he helped to pull at Dwalin. The dwarf's hold on Dori's tunic came loose and he was tugged away, snarling obscenities at him. 

"Get him out of here." Balin said to Gloin, who promptly helped to haul Dori out of the room. Nori followed, and Ori looked torn as who to stay with. His blotchy face looked between the two dwarves, and Bilbo could practically see his heart breaking in two. 

He wormed his way past Fíli and Kíli and grabbed Ori's sleeve, tugging him away. 

"Come with me." He whispered, voice barely audible over the dull roar of the company trying to figure out what happened. Ori went easily, slipping away unnoticed. Bilbo stalled in the hallway, wondering where to go. Kitchen? No, someone would come find them and butt in. His room? Yes, he could kick Thorin out for a few minutes. 

When Bilbo entered, Thorin was sitting up, but otherwise still in bed. His eyes followed Ori as the dwarf entered, then went back to Bilbo. 

"What--"

"We need a few moments alone. Go do damage control? Or make breakfast? Either way, out."

"But--"

"Now please!" He demanded. Thorin stared for a second before getting up. Begrudgingly, he slid out of the blankets and looked again at Ori. Bilbo thought he was going to say something, but the dwarf merely shook his head and left. 

"Come, sit." Bilbo told Ori. He led the dwarf to the bed and sat him down before going over to the fireplace and tending to the nearly dead flame. It was silent for a moment, Bilbo finding himself at a lack for what to say. He sighed. 

"Take this from the beginning maybe? What's going on between you and Dwalin? I want the full story, not some personalized version I get from Kíli."

Ori groaned and covered his face. "It's ridiculous! Dori and Nori won't leave me be!"

"What are they bothering you about?"

"You already know." Ori mumbled, but Bilbo shook his head. 

"I want the story right from you. What happened?"

Ori sighed, looking down at his hands. "During the battle, Dwalin wouldn't leave me. He protected my back, and I had his. But, I was struck by an arrow. It didn't seem like much a problem at first, I just cut most of the shaft off and kept going. I was going to get it taken care of and he went off when no one could find you or Thorin. Apparently, the arrow's tip was covered in some foul stuff, and the wound got bad. I came to a few hours before you did actually. I mean, I was around the other days, but I had a terrible fever and I wasn't all there! So when I woke up Dwalin wasn't there, just my brothers. Not that I wasn't happy to see them! But I asked where he was, and first they said he was recovering which I believed, but then I was told that he was  _busy!_  Obviously I knew that something was happening!

"I made Dori tell me. He thinks that because Dwalin  _let me_  get shot by the arrow, he'll never be a good husband. Nori says that it's no coincidence that one of the finest fighters in Ered Luin would have a lapse in concentration too. "

"But Dwalin couldn't have protected you from the arrow. He couldn't have known." Bilbo said quietly. Ori made a frustrated noise and nodded. He began to sniffle, wiping at his eyes. 

"Dwalin didn't let it happen. If he had known, he probably would've gotten shot himself and Mahal knows he wouldn't have gotten help! He'd be dead, and I've explained it to them more times than I can count! They won't even let me talk to him! I've tried to deal with it, and I figured they would ease off but it only got worse! They had a big fight awhile ago, and Dori told him that he was taking back permission for our courtship! Bilbo, we're this close to being married!" Ori made a pitiful gesture with his fingers and began to cry in earnest, groaning at his misfortune. Bilbo came and sat next to him on the bed, wrapping his arm around the dwarf. 

"What happened today?" He asked gently. Ori stared at the floor. 

"I told him that we should run away. Go home and have the ceremony before anyone could stop us. Dwalin still had Balin's consent of course, and he would know where we were, so if something happened along the way we'd be okay! I was getting up this morning, and I snuck into Balin and Dwalin's room. They were both awake, and we were just talking out covers! Our story! But Nori was awake too, and he heard it all and burst in and starting arguing with them and me. Then, he went and got Dori and it just..."

"Escalated?"

"Yes." Ori muttered, wiping at his wet eyes and face. "I love him so much, Bilbo. He's my One. I couldn't imagine being without him."

"I know, I know." He soothed. "You'll figure something out. It'll be alright. What happened when problems like this arise in Ered Luin?"

"The eldest family member will have to fight the intended. The brawl earlier doesn't count. It has to be fair. Usually, there'll be a civil official of a sort to make sure there's no rigging and--" Ori suddenly cut himself off, eyes widening. 

"Bilbo, couldn't Thorin just overturn the decision?!"

" _What?"_

_"_ He's our leader! A-And now he's royalty too!" There was a frenzied panic building in Ori's eyes as he babbled on. "He can call it off! Dori will have no say!"

"Oh but--"

"A-And since Dori threw the first punch, I'll say that he attacked him!"

"Ori-"

"He was saying nasty, awful things Bilbo! I know he's my brother, but I can't let him push me around! Thorin can make him understand! He--"

" _No!_ " 

Ori looked at Bilbo in surprise, eyes glistening with desperate tears. Bilbo shook his head, his heart racing with anxiety. 

"Listen to me. You will not twist Thorin's past like that." Bilbo swallowed heavily. "This is not a matter to be decided by someone else. If a brawl is needed, I'll be the official! But do not put this decision in someone else's hands."

They were both silent for a few moments. Ori looked pale and haggard, overrun by the stress of his dilemma. He wiped at his eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Bilbo sighed. "You're still young. You've been put in probably the most difficult position of your life. You're going to sound barmy and be selfish and not think. But love does that to you. You'll find a way around this. If you and Dwalin are Ones, then I'm sure you'll get past this."

"Like you and Thorin?"

Bilbo was taken aback by the question. He assumed the company knew of what happened, and from what he could gather, the consequences would've been bad anywhere else. So for him to keep moving forward, it must've looked like some miraculous act of selflessness and true love. 

And maybe it was. He didn't know anyone who would've faulted him for ending their relationship. But he loved Thorin. And no one else's opinion on it mattered.

"Yes," he said at last. "Like us."

* * *

For the time being, Dwalin and Balin were set to be spending their days down at the smithy, far from trouble. As for the Ri brothers, Ori dedicated his time to being away from his brothers, trying to drive the point home that what was going on wasn't acceptable. Secretly, Bilbo thought that Dori's repeal was a low blow. He was glad consent wasn't needed in the Shire; Yavanna knows it would've taken his father decades. 

Most of the time, Bilbo found himself being the one to grab Ori's attention. The dwarf didn't engage much, but he would instead hole himself up in Bilbo's study and delve into his collection or books, or use his father's old drafting tools to sketch. Ori's pencils and paint had been long since used up, and with the roads heading into the Shire still being rather icy, or quite muddy where the snow had finally melted, his wish for fine papers and fancy pencils weren't making onto the supply list.

Bilbo didn't mind his presence; why would he? Thorin had started going back to the smithy, leaving him alone and truthfully, lonely. Conversations were lovely, but there wasn't anything that Bilbo appreciated in a person more than being able to simply sit with them and be at ease. It was a companionable silence, and it was peaceful. 

Despite his ease, Bilbo kept thinking of the conversation with Ori. They were being seen as some sort of power couple, invincible to the harsh circumstances being thrown at them. It wasn't true. Bilbo had been beaten down and Thorin's mind was tossed away to madness and they were still dealing with it. 

Or, perhaps they weren't. Bilbo was beginning to realize that they didn't speak of things until it reached a breaking point, or had already flowed over. It wasn't healthy, nor smart to have willful ignorance govern all of their conversations, and ultimately decisions. They needed to know when something was wrong, and that they needed to talk about it. 

Bilbo looked up from a paper and over at Ori, who was engrossed in some lengthy novel that Bilbo didn't even remember having. Then again, he had more books than he even cared to count, so perhaps it hasn't odd that he didn't recognize it. Still, no solution had been found to try and make his brothers change their minds, and Bilbo wondered if it was because they simply refused to talk. Dwalin was quite confrontational, and Bilbo couldn't imagine that they had gotten far in a conversation before someone made an offhand comment and made things spiral out of control. Bilbo was too consumed by his own happenings that day to have paid much attention to the others, and the raised voices he heard had been in the back of his mind. Maybe, if he had intervened sooner and been able to find out what was going on, this could've all been avoided. But the circumstances that day wouldn't have allowed it. What happened was fate and what would happened next was for Ori and Dwalin to decide.

As for Thorin and himself, what they remained silent about had to be acknowledged. Bilbo was tired of the uncertainty, the way that the ease between them had grown to be forever thin these days. He made up his mind, as he set the quill onto the paper, to talk with his dwarf later. 

* * *

When those who had gone to the smithy returned, the sky was darkening with night and the cool air flowed around them. Bilbo caught a bit of it as the front door opened, letting in the coldness. It swept around into the kitchen where he stood, and only intensified when Thorin came to find him. 

"Hello." Bilbo said, turning and giving him a kiss as the dwarf's chilly body pressed against his. Thorin made a noise in reply, looking over Bilbo's shoulder at the vegetables he was slicing. 

"Stew?" Thorin murmured, his hands snaking around to lay atop of Bilbo's as he kept cutting. Bilbo shivered at the nearly ice cold roughness of them. It had been sunny enough all day to melt plenty of snow, but the wind still had its icy bite as night came upon them. 

"Yes. It'll be ready in a little bit." 

"Good, good. There's enough for everyone?"

"What sort of question is that? Of course there is."

"I'm going to call everyone to a group dinner tonight. I have news to share."

That caught Bilbo's attention. "What sort?"

"You'll know soon enough."

The hobbit stilled in his slicing. This was exactly what he needed to address. "We have to talk later too. It's important."

"Important?" Thorin repeated. "Tell me now then.

"It's a private conversation, Thorin. We'll speak after dinner." 

"If it must be so." The dwarf grumbled, his hands leaving Bilbo's. He walked from the kitchen and left the hobbit to let out a breath. He wondered what news Thorin had. Something from Ered Luin?  It must have been able to affect the whole company, or he would not have wanted them to hear it. 

Sighing, Bilbo took the cutting board filled with sliced vegetables and added it to the stew. 

Later as they sat down, it felt a bit odd to have a full table. Ori had taken to eating alone, if he even remembered to, and Bilbo had been eating just with Thorin mostly, the rest of the company digging in when the urge struck. Seeing the whole company together once more and remembering how each dwarf's mannerisms mixed to form the jovial mood he was used to brought a smile to his face. Even Ori and Dwalin seemed to be managing, sneaking longing expressions only when Dori and Nori weren't looking. 

About halfway through the meal, Thorin stood. A hush fell over the company immediately and they all looked to him. His eyes scanned once over them all, lingering on Bilbo, before he began to speak. 

"My friends and kin. I have a very important announcement." He stilled for a moment. "You all know of my...heritage. After much thought, I have answered the proposal given to me by the dwarves of Erebor. They came with a message from their King; one that required a careful answer. After thinking it over these past months, I now know what I will do."

He took a deep breath and looked to Bilbo again. "I have been offered the throne as to right what was wrong. The King Daín, he is a good and honorable dwarf. I made sure that the offer was wholly correct, and it is."

Bilbo looked up at him, his mouth agape. He whispered the dwarf's name as he continued. 

"I have decided to take the throne. And I would ask you all and your families, to come live with me in Erebor as nobility. I made sure there would be nothing less for you all."

The table erupted in noise, frenzied questions and exclamations meeting Thorin from every direction. 

"Of course we'll come! But nobility? We are toymakers and tinkers!" Bofur said. Thorin nodded. 

"I have only ever had loyalty from you all. This is my way of repaying the kindness I have received over the many years."

"Oh laddie, you don't repay kindness!" Came Gloin's exasperated cry. He gave Thorina grin nonetheless. "You bet yer beard I'll be there though. Imagine, my family as nobility!"

As his announcement was met with good cheer, Thorin reached out for Bilbo's hand. The hobbit clasped onto his the way a drowning man would to land. Bilbo was stunned; he could think of nothing to say. He was even a little ticked that Thorin hadn't talked to him about it! But as the dwarf gave him a warm smile, his eyes crinkling in a way the hobbit had not seen in a long time, he knew that his decision must be for the best. And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try and support him. 

Besides, nobility didn't sound half bad. Being able to travel again after so long as well? He was glad to join Thorin. 

As Thorin sat down again and squeezed his hand, Bilbo couldn't help but kiss him, their faces smushing together. 

Thorin laughed quietly and Bilbo forgot everything that he had wanted to talk about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is the last chapter!! that's why this one is so short. it's taken me over a year to get this point omg (remember the days when i thought i would have this finished in february)  
> also at this point in the story, it's about mid march. as someone from massachusetts, our snow didn't completely melt until april this year so i'm basically going off of that  
> i no longer have a beta, so if you notice any mistakes i didn't catch, please tell me and i'll fix them!!


	26. Chapter 26

Thorin wondered if he had ever felt happiness like this. To be able to reach his grandfather and father's dream, to be able to right what had been wronged; he would've been a hero to them. Even more, he felt for the first time in a very long time, that he was doing the right thing. In Ered Luin, none of his company or their familes lived in poverty. They weren't rich, but they were comfortable. Now, they could have all that they wished. Their loyalty was steadfast; Thorin could think of no greater gift. 

 And Bilbo, he too was to join him. The night after the announcement, they took to their bedroom and smiled until their faces hurt. Thorin didn't need to pose the question, for Bilbo's expression told him all. Bilbo's life hadn't been easy. He deserved to have each all the riches he desired. 

 There was to be much preparation before Thorin could leave. Though the dwarves of Erebor insisted that he could up and leave and that all other matters would be taken care of by his soon to be officials, Thorin was adamant about doing it himself. He composed letters to his family, asking them to follow him. He could hardly believe they would have any complaints besides the suddenness of it all, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he just told them to up and move. 

 Sending the letters did not take long, but Thorin found other ways to halt the move. He had a list of orders from customers that had not been fulfilled before the winter, and with what material he had left, he was determined to finish as many of them as possible. He could not apologize to the whole Shire for the horror he brought upon them; he did not know everyone well enough to make it person. But this way, he could do as much as possible to give back, and ensure that he had not forgotten about the people who welcomed him so readily into their land. 

 His days were filled with working at the smithy and going to the dwarvish camp, now composed of only about 20. While there, he was able to sort out things that would've been the first thing to greet him upon his arrival in the kingdom. The subject of royal advisors came up, for many had been expelled from their positions with the death of Frôr. While there was a wide array of recommendations, Thorin found that he could not pick any of them. His company was made of dwarves who knew nothing of the inner workings of royal business, but then again, he too was fairly clueless. To the protests of the dwarves, he appointed his company to various positions. Balin would be his Head Advisor,  Dwalin would become the leader of Erebor's armies, Bombur assigned to be the royal chef, and Ori made the royal scribe. The others went to various places, all taking the offer with excitement. Thorin knew that his choices were not seen as wise in the eyes of the other dwarves, but he chose to ignore their concerns. Frôr had been a King who nearly drove Erebor into ruin; a significant change was needed. 

 Though they didn't once speak of it, Thorin could not stop thinking of Bilbo's place in the kingdom. He had been the one who breached the topic of his hobbit with the dwarves, and was pleased to find that he would not be prohibited from taking Bilbo as his consort. Frôr had put many xenophobic policies in place during his rule, and they had been repealed following his death, the realization that it would only hurt any possible alliances finally coming to light. He was warned however, that he should expect protest over it. The people of Erebor, particularly those in the higher class, would not be happy with his decision to take Bilbo as his consort. Deíden, the leader the dwarves, urged him to take special care in introducing Bilbo. 

 Perhaps he should be brought around as well, so that he too could be informed of the possible dangers his race might bring upon him." The dwarf advised, but Thorin politely turned him down. Bilbo was hardy; opposition wouldn't faze him. Besides, any dangers would never reach him, Thorin assured them all. 

* * *

Time flew by as Thorin saw the last of the snow melt, and spring bloom in the Shire. Wildflowers began to cover the grasses of the land, their various colors popping brightly on the deep green of the grass. No longer did the biting scent of ice linger in the air, replaced instead by the crisp freshness of sunshine. And with the sunshine came warmth, the kind that filtered into Bilbo's room early in the morning and cast the most beautiful highlights on the winter paled skin of his beloved. It was those mornings, when the sun was particularly bright that Thorin would gather Bilbo close, shielding his still closed eyes from all light. Unconsciously, Bilbo would snuggle into him, huffing out a small breath that seemed to throw Thorin's heart for a loop. For what seemed forever after, Thorin would lay there with him, warmed by body contact and the spring air, perfectly content to never move again. 

 But the time came when he would have to move again, the sounds of the company beginning to wake up and move around stirring Bilbo. Thorin watched as Bilbo would climb out of bed, stretch, and throw a still-half-asleep smile over his shoulder that would make him rush to follow. 

 One such morning, Thorin was trailing behind Bilbo when he heard a creak behind him. He paused as he saw Dwalin leave the Ri brother's room. The dwarf stopped at the door and Thorin watched as Dori and him stood eye to eye, caught in civil indifference. 

 "You're lucky I love my brother. Otherwise, I would've never let this happen."

 "I know." Dwalin grunted. "But you did."

 "Only because Ori threatened to never speak to me again. He's grown up more than I'm willing to admit. I know he would've followed through." Dori sighed. "Protect him. There will be no second chances."

 "I don't plan on it." Dwalin replied. Thorin turned away as the two grasped each other's shoulders in agreement. He didn't smile, not wanting to give away any sign that he had seen what occurred. 

 Obviously, Dori had once again given his permission for the courtship. He was inexplicably pleased at how well things seemed to have been progressing amongst the company. It finally felt as if they were slipping into their old places, bound again without fail. 

 As Thorin stepped into the kitchen to see his friends sitting down for breakfast, already laughing heartily, it was then that he allowed himself to smile. 

* * *

 

"What are you saying?" 

"Ah well, it's nothing against you, my lord." Deíden insisted. "It's just that many dwarves have never heard of a hobbit, let alone seen one. I recommend that if your intended must come with you, he should not be immediately introduced as such. Make him a royal guest, and allow the public to grow at least used to him, if not comfortable."

"I will not leave him." Thorin seethed, catching on to the implied suggestion. For all that he had been told of tolerance, Thorin was beginning to doubt. "You said that it was the higher class who would be adverse."

"Indeed. But, the higher class does have more influence upon the royal family. Without a general approval, you could very well find yourself and your family in danger." He warned. "You would not want that."

"I am not ashamed of who I love. I do not plan on keeping the same system you might have grown up with either, Deídan. The wealthy will have no more sway over me than the poor."

"Your intentions are humble, my lord. But you know nothing of how to run a kingdom. The wealthy are not afraid to create a stir."

"Pray tell, do the wealthy outnumber the poor?"

"Of course not. Do they ever?"

"Then could the poor not cause more of a stir if  _they_ did approve of him?"

"My lord--"

"Remember who you are speaking to." Thorin warned. "I have never lived in great wealth. I feel no pity for the causes of those who do."

"I understand." Deídan murmured. Thorin stood sharply. 

"Good. I am finished for the day. Think of more important matters to discuss tomorrow." He left Deídan's tent, walking away from the expansively temporary dwarvish settlement. 

His blood boiled like it hadn't since he had fallen prey to that sickness. How dare he try to tell him that Bilbo could not join him? It it weren't for Bilbo, he might have never been able to be king! 

Thorin would not be a selfish king like they had become used to. He would not favor one class over another, and turn a blind eye to real suffering to fix the minor troubles of the privileged. He would be a fair king, true to his people and try to fix the seemingly large gap in classes. Thorin knew what it was to live in poverty beneath a selfish ruler. He would not allow the experience to continue. 

His mood must've been tangible as he walked into the smithy, as none spoke to him. He simply walked into the back room with the forge and began to pull on his apron and gloves. 

"What's your problem now?" Dwalin asked, giving him a grin. He was obviously beyond happy with his current situation. Jealously seethed through him. 

"Nothing." He muttered. He began to work on a project from yesterday, a commission for a set of gardening tools. It gave him a nostalgic feeling, thinking back to the beginning of his relationship with Bilbo. He had known so little then, his feelings only a fraction of what he felt now. If he could go back in time and tell himself what was to follow, would he change anything? 

"You and Ori are together without incident again." Thorin said. Dwalin smiled to himself. 

"I saw you this mornin'. I knew you saw."

"I'm happy for you." Thorin replied. "I hope nothing of the sort ever happens again."

"I don't plan on it." Dwalin told him. His expression turned solemn and he wiped at the sweat on his brow. "But, it's put me on edge. I can't protect 'im from everythin'. But if I don't, then we won't be able to be together."

"After you're married, it won't matter."

"Yes it will." Dwalin sighed. "If Dori speaks badly of me again, Ori's not gonna want him to be part of his life. I don't want to tear them apart. How am I supposed to protect him if I can't even help him keep his brothers close to him?"

"It's Ori's choice. Why does it matter?"

"Because if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have made it." Dwalin shook his head. "What am I sayin'? Dori's smart enough to take Ori's opinion to heart, I shouldn't even be worryin' about this. Sorry."

"Don't be." Thorin mumbled. "You're free to worry to me."

"How sweet." Dwalin gave him a wolfish grin before returning to his work, leaving Thorin to think as he began his project again. 

He felt sick about himself, unable to voice the smallest of concerns openly to his longest friend. What sort of hypocrisy was he practicing? No such trait would do him well as king. It wouldn't be long now before he had to leave. He could stall, but not for long. No matter how much the role of king called to his heart, his mind was still in a frenzy over it. 

Truthfully, he was terrified. 

He didn't know what the stress of it could feel like. Thousands of people under his rule, their lives depending on his luck and choices. He would determine whether there would be life or death, prosperity or poverty. One mistake, and it could be the end of him, or anyone else close to him. 

"Dwalin, how dangerous do you think being a king will be?"

"Enough for you to need guards." He snorted in reply. "Bit nervewrakin' eh?"

"If you say so." Thorin replied. Dwalin rolled his eyes. 

"You'll be fine. And hey, if anyone else runs into trouble, they'll make it." He laughed. "Maybe give Bilbo a guard as a decoy. Let someone go after him and they'll be out before they can even say  _hobbit_." 

Thorin huffed a laugh and faked a smile. They fell back into silence, only the sounds of their work filling the room. 

There would be many who would go after Bilbo, he could see it now. They would see him as an easy target, someone close to him but so much more delicate. And while Bilbo could defend himself when he was expecting something, Thorin  _knew_ that someone would gain his trust before striking. He was too kind, too trusting. He'd never want a guard, he'd only tell Thorin he was worrying too much! But what if the day came when he was missing, and there was only a ransom note to tell of his whereabouts? What if they were too slow, too careless, and Bilbo simply wound up as a casualty in some brimming civil conflict, cut open and bled out and  _gone through no fault of his_ **own** \--

Thorin took a deep breath and exhaled. He set down his tools and wiped at his forehead. His head was spinning as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to breathe. 

"You alright?" Dwalin asked. Thorin waved him off. 

"Yes, fine. Just a headache. Those other dwarves are nearly unbearable."

"Good thing you got us then!"

"Yes, a very good thing." He muttered. 

* * *

 

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asked as they lay in bed that night. He sounded tired, on the edge of falling asleep. It was like him to worry more for Thorin then taking care of himself. 

"Yes."

"You seemed off at dinner. You know you can talk to me. It's all fine with me. Just--" Bilbo yawned. "Just don't keep it all to yourself. It's no good for you." 

"I know." Thorin replied. Bilbo rolled over so that he faced Thorin, though hardly able visible in the darkness. 

"Are you worried? About becoming a king?"

"Yes." He couldn't bring his voice above a whisper, tongue heavy as he managed to get the words out. Bilbo shuffled his head until it rested on Thorin's clavicle. His hand rubbed over his arms, warmth seeping deep into his bones. The loving, tender touch made Thorin want to jerk away. 

He remained. 

"It'll be alright. None of us know what to expect either. You'll find your way."

"Will I?" He asked sourly. "The dwarves of Erebor are nothing like the ones of Ered Luin. Different temperaments, different history..."

"You have history with both groups." Bilbo soothed. "Unfortunately, you are probably a martyr to them. It;ll give you some time to adjust, and fill in. You just be yourself an things will be fine."

"How much time will I have to find my way before some angry revolution overthrows us and you end up--" Thorin bit off the sentence, self loathing filling his body. Bilbo didn't need to hear the rest of his worry, simply shaking his head gently. 

"Don't think like that. Nothing bad will happen, at least nothing you can't handle. And we'll be there to help you." Bilbo moved again, this time settling in when their noses brushed. 

"I don't expect you to be overjoyed. This is a important decision. But it's all for good, isn't it? You can have such a good life, no more fretting over the past. The kingdom will be freed from an unjust king. You're what they needed, Thorin. And if you need someone to help you through it all, you have the company, and your family." 

Bilbo's lips brushed over his. "And you have me. You'll always have me." 

Thorin suddenly moved, seizing Bilbo and wrapping his arms around him. He curled around the hobbit, burying his face in his neck. Bilbo latched onto him, squeezing with all his might. He seemed so small now, with such delicate words and a soft heart. How could he bring him into this mess? He was right, it was all for good. Thorin wanted this, he wanted to live out the dream he had always held deep in the back of his mind. He was a dwarf of good morals, who would see the kingdom returned to its former glory. 

But he couldn't let Bilbo fall behind in priority. He had to be kept safe, away from Thorin's sour moods and unpredictability. He was a smart dwarf, but he would never call himself wise. 

The others wouldn't agree. But he had to do this. 

"I love you." Bilbo whispered, and Thorin could feel him smile. How torn such a simple expression could make him. 

* * *

"Balin, wake up."

"Hm? Thorin?" The old dwarf stirred. He sat up, peering at him in the early morning light. It was scarcely past sunrise. "Is something wrong?"

"Deíden came to me this morning. We must leave today."

" _What?"_  Balin scrubbed a hand over his face. "Why so sudden?"

"I don't know." Thorin replied truthfully. He suspected that the dwarf had simply grown tired of waiting, and that he could stall no longer. The roads were no longer a muddy mess, returned to their normal dirt and sand state. 

"Aye, if we must then. Better to get on early so we don't get a crowd."

"Indeed." Thorin agreed. "Make sure everyone is quiet about it all. Bilbo didn't...get enough sleep last night. I'll wake him myself."

Allowing Balin to assume what he wished, which wasn't particularly innocent if the raised eyebrow was any suggestion, Thorin set off to wake the others, relaying the same message. 

_Be quiet. Bilbo is asleep. We must go as soon as possible. The ponies are waiting at the end of Bagshot Row. Go quickly._

In the end, his plan did work. Having grown used to sleeping in, nearly everyone was too tired to make much noise. The time lended him even more help, Bilbo's room remaining dark when Thorin peeked in. 

"What about breakfast?" Kíli yawned to him as he stuffed his spare clothes into his pack. Thorin shrugged. 

"We'll stop at Bree, maybe. You can have something there."

"If you say so."

The company was up and moving out the door by the time Bilbo awoke. It was sooner than Thorin had wanted; his getaway had almost been clean. But everything was mostly done, and he could find a way around this. He reminded himself why he was doing this.

_It was for the best for Bilbo. He was making the right decision._

"What's going on?" Bilbo watched as Dwalin tromped out the door with he and Ori's supplies, arms laden. Thorin swallowed and followed him as he walked into the kitchen. 

"Deíden came to me this morning. We have to leave today."

"Today?! Oh Thorin, you should've woken me up! I need to pack, and I need to arrange some other things...Besides, I haven't travelled much since I was quite young as you know!" Bilbo tittered, and it felt as if a knife was twisting deep into his heart. He drew in a breath. He looked around, seeing if they were alone. Bag End seemed quiet enough. He didn't want to lie to his friends, but they could not know of his weakness yet, not with it not on his own terms.

"You're not coming." 

Bilbo's smile did not fade. He looked at Thorin with a grin, but his eyes conveyed disbelief. 

"What?"

"I said you're not coming." Thorin repeated harshly. His breath seemed to loud, too heavy. The beginning of a shattered expression on Bilbo's face proved to be nearly too much to handle.  

"Thorin. Thorin, what are--" he began, but Thorin could not bear to let him speak. 

"I am no good for you, Bilbo. You must stay here. You know of my fate; it's not for a hobbit."

"Thorin, what's come over you? You...you can't do this. You don't get to decide." Bilbo said hoarsely. Thorin could hardly breathe with how betrayed he looked. "You, do  _not_ get to decide!"

_"_ I will nonetheless." Thorin told him. "You are my One. I will keep you safe as I must. And if that means leaving you behind, then so be it."

 Bilbo leaned heavily against the table, looking utterly taken aback. He shook his head. "Thorin, don't do this."

 "I must." He said desperately. An odd anger rose in him, and he clenched his fists. "You think I enjoy this? You think I  _want_  to do this?"

 "If you don't, then do not! I'm going whether you like it or not!" Bilbo shouted at him. Thorin advanced on him, reaching out and grabbing his arm. His fingers dug into the soft skin. 

"You listen to me." He gritted. "I am keeping you safe. Do you know what being king would mean? Do you? Would you like to be cast aside as I care for thousands of others? Would you like to fall victim to some attack on my kingdom? Would you?!" He howled. Bilbo reached out and grabbed his collar. Up so close, Thorin could see the tears in his eyes. 

"I would do it all to be with you." 

Thorin's restraint broke then. His mouth twisted miserably, and he shook his head. He wanted to weep, wanted to fall to his knees right there and give in. But he could not. This was the only way. 

"I am ending our courtship."

Bilbo's hand slackened, and Thorin was able to pull back. His own grip on the hobbit's arm weakened at the look of devestation. Bilbo didn't even blink as he stared at Thorin, his mouth hanging open. Slowly, he drew in a breath and looked at his dwarf in pure desperation. 

"Please. Please no. Thorin you can't." Bilbo begged, his voice cracking. The tears in his eyes welled up, and he looked so close to breaking down. "You can't do this because you don't get your way! I love you!"

"And what has that love brought you?!" Thorin snapped. "A battle that left us both nearly dead? Your friends killed? It will only bring more hurt upon you." Thorin loathed himself. It was not Bilbo's fault, and it never would be. It was all his doing. If he had never left Ered Luin, this would've never happened. 

"My love brought me you! Do you not love me as you spoke of? Has it been nothing but a lie?" Bilbo demanded. Thorin grabbed his shoulders and dug his fingers in. It must've hurt, for Bilbo winced. 

"Do not doubt me! This is all for you, Bilbo. You believe I leave because I lied? I leave because I must. I wish I had never met you, and never brought this suffering upon the both of us!" 

Thorin regretted speaking as soon as the words registered within Bilbo. He looked as through he'd been slapped, the color draining from his face and leaving him a pale white. Thorin's hands soothed his upper arms for a moment before letting go. He breathed heavily, hating himself more than ever. 

"Then this is it." Bilbo croaked. He had never looked this ruined, not even when his own family passed. The words cut like a knife, but Thorin knew he deserved it. His wishes of marriage died in the back of his mind. 

"I'm sorry." Thorin said, for it was all he could think of. "I--"

"Don't." Bilbo whispered. "Please don't say it."

"As you wish." Thorin said. Bilbo's face was a blank mask, his eyes dark. Thorin stifled a sigh. "Farewell, Bilbo."

"May kingship treat you well." The hobbit replied. He still did not look at Thorin, and the dwarf took it as his notice to leave. His own footsteps echoed in his ears as he walked out of Bag End. The air was clear as he left the smial, and the sun shined on him. It only made his heart twist further. 

When he joined the company at the bottom of Bagshot Row, their eyes were all trained on him. 

"Where's Bilbo? He didn't get mad at you for not waking him up, did he? Fíli said he heard raised voices." Kíli leaned back in the saddle, far more alert then he had been earlier. Thorin didn't meet his eye. 

"He's not coming."

No one gasped. But, he could nearly  _taste_ the shock and disbelief. He mounted Minty and tried to ignore the hovering dwarves. 

"You're joking! He was so excited to go, and we can  _wait_  for him. It's not as though we're going to leave without him!" Fíli protested. Thorin nodded. 

"Yes we are. We cannot wait any longer." 

"You're hidin' somethin'." Dwalin hissed beside him. "What happened?" 

"It's for the best." He gritted. "Trust me."

"I'll wait for him!" Ori volunteered. A low murmur of agreement passed between other members of the company. 

"Thorin, you are more important to this Deíden then us. You can go ahead, and we will join you." Dori told him. "Bilbo doesn't know the way, how would he come later?"

_"He's not coming later!"_ His hands gripped the reins tightly as he bellowed. "He's staying here, what do you all not understand?!"

It was then that a cry went up between them. 

"That's not like him!"

"Aye! Thorin, did somethin' happen? Can he not leave? Is there some sort of Shire custom?"

"He can't just stay here! I won't allow it."

"My choice is  _final!"_ he thundered. "I don't want to hear anything else about it. We're leaving.  _Now."_

Thorin turned away from his friends, fists shaking and he urged Minty forward. They wouldn't stay for longer than a minute; they didn't know why Bilbo wouldn't leave. Only Thorin did as far as they all knew. To get the answer, they had to follow him. 

The company didn't like it though. He could feel their angry, untrusting stares on his back. He understood their anger. He was making them leave behind someone who had become family. But it was for the best. Bilbo would be safe now.

* * *

 

He did not know how long he sat for. Bilbo felt blank, completely empty. Bag End was empty once more, and he was deserted. His friends were gone, and his courtship ended. He was alone. 

He was going to remain that way. 

 Like a dam bursting, Bilbo broke into tears. Not silent tears of loneliness, but loud, shuddering ones of sorrow. He put his face in his hands and wept, hiccuping and shaking. There were no words to describe his emotions, only wretched sobbing. His face became wet and raw with the tears, and his throat ached as he exhausted his voice with sobs. His ribs ached with the force of his ragged breathing and he gasped for air as only more sobs escaped him. 

 His mind howled, mouth twisting as he shook his head. Thorin loved him, he was undoubtedly sure. But this? How could this be safer than being with him? What would happen when grief became too much and like his mother, he gave up? It was a bitter thought, but he feared his life would end just the same. 

"Bilbo?" The hobbit looked up at the sound of Gandalf's voice, the wizard starting slightly as his red, tear streaked face. "What's happened? Why are you so broken down?"

" _He left!"_ Bilbo choked out, more tears rolling down his face. "H-He's gone without me! Why, why does he do these things? I gave  _everything!_ "

Gandalf could not think of a reply, instead walking over to the table and letting Bilbo lean against him. Bilbo didn't really want an answer or a solution; what could anyone else do to fix this? He knew that Thorin thought he was doing what was best, damn him. But did he never consider his suffering because of it? 

"I'm sure he did." Gandalf murmured, and Bilbo realized he had said that aloud. "But he is stubborn, and frankly, I think frightened. He doesn't know what to do."

"But he never asks for  _help!_ " Bilbo shouted. "Of course he's frightened! He wants to do it all alone, and he knows he can't! He needs someone! He needs  _me!"_

Bilbo's eyes widened. He nodded as he spoke. "He needs me. I can't just let him do this!"

Bilbo scrambled up from the table and bolted into the room, throwing open his closet and scouring it quickly. Bilbo was out of his bedroom before he had both legs in his trousers, stuffing his billowing nightshirt into the waistband. That accursed dwarf! Bilbo would be damned it he would let Thorin do this! The poor fellow was so caught up in his own worries to see what they had already been through. This, this was nothing!

"Wherever are you going?" Gandalf called, but Bilbo knew the wizard was only feigning ignorance. 

"After him! I'll be dead before I let him just up and leave without me!" 

Bilbo didn't even close his door as he shot out of Bag End, running as fast as his legs would carry him down Bagshot Row. It was still early, but a few hobbits were out, preparing for the day. They watched in surprise as Bilbo sprinted past, not even fully dressed.

The dwarves had no doubt taken the East Road, heading out towards Bree. They couldn't be far off, not with how many there were. Adrenaline fueled his steps as the spring air whipped through his hair, plastering the curls to his skin. His ankle throbbed dully, but he ignored it. The discomfort of it would never compare to losing Thorin like this.

It was not long before he heard the sound of dwarves speaking. None of the company's voices were heard, only some dwarves of Erebor. Bilbo's lungs burned as he ran, his calves tight as he tried to catch them. 

"Wait!  _Wait!"_ He called, voice shrill and hoarse. The grass was damp with morning dew, making his feet slick. Bilbo found himself slipping on the grass and falling heavily, all the air being pushed from his lungs. He breathed in giant gulps, struggling to return to his feet.

"It's only a child, we can move on. Them folks should know not to bother a King." He heard one soldier remark, and his hope died. With Thorin's attitude, he was likely to believe them! 

" _Thorin!_ " He shouted, throat burning. The sound of hooves stopped again as Bilbo rose to his feet and staggered forward, the group of dwarves coming into view. Thorin rode up and jumped from his pony, brows furrowed in anger. 

"What are you doing?" He hissed. "You need to stay. And running after me with your ankle? Go home!"

"Forget about the damned ankle and listen to me!" Bilbo huffed, marching up and sticking his finger in the middle of Thorin's chest. "You are a  _fool,_ Thorin. A damned fool if you think I'll let you do this. You want to end our courtship? Fine!"

There was a disapproving murmur between the company at Bilbo's words, and Thorin flushed in embarrassment. "But I would rather die than let you take everyone from me. I am going to Erebor, courtship or no courtship, whether you like it or not!"

"Bilbo--" 

"Which brings me to my next point. I am still furious. I do _not_ yet forgive you. However," Bilbo announced. He looked around quickly and spotted a small patch of wildflowers. Not quite what he wanted but it would suffice. "I know this isn't how you dwarves do it, but honestly, I am much too frustrated to care. Thorin Oakenshield, I deem you unfit to end our courtship and say this instead. Will you  _please_  get your head out of your backside and marry me?" 

Bilbo shoved the flowers at Thorin, but never once broke his gaze. Thorin was silent for a few moments, eyes moving from Bilbo's face to where the flowers tickled his hand. 

"If I say no?"

Bilbo swallowed. "Then our courtship is terminated. I will not leave behind my friends though, and will travel to Erebor on my own."

Thorin's eyes bore into his, but Bilbo did not allow himself to squirm under the penetrating gaze. Thorin finally exhaled, his hand shifting. 

"Then I say yes." 

His hand overlapped Bilbo's and the flowers, while the other cupped his jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Bilbo dropped the flowers and threw both his arms around Thorin's neck, holding on when the dwarf lifted him straight off the ground and broke the kiss, instead leaning his forehead against Bilbo's. 

"And I swear," Bilbo panted, moving one hand to grip Thorin's chin. "If you  _ever_  try to make a decision for me again, I will not hesitate to turn everyone against you and put Kíli on the throne."

A bubbling laugh shot out of Thorin, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. Bilbo grinned and kissed him again, hands running over his neck. 

"My lord...King Daín awaits our arrival." Deíden interrupted. Dwalin gave him a shove from where he sat on his pony. 

"A day won't make a difference. Quit yer complaining." He snapped. Bilbo laughed as Thorin put him back upon the ground, his hand falling to hold one of Bilbo's. 

"You may all wait if you wish. Master Baggins has a few affairs to settle I'm sure, and I will go with him. Of course, there will be a few extra belongings to take..."

"Kíli and I will help!" Fíli hollered. Bilbo gave them a grin before looking back to Thorin. 

"Well, let's go then. I've waited quite long enough to see this kingdom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it!! it's been more than a year since i started this fic, and i'm proud to say it's the first multichapter that i've ever finished. honestly, this fic was only supposed to be around 10 chapters long, and my original storyline was much different. i'm glad how it turned out though, and the support i received was overwhelming. thank you for all the nice comments, the kudos and the follows. though i didn't reply to many of them, i read one of them and kept them in mind as i continued to write.
> 
> there might be some edits here and there, and when i get the time, i might add an epilogue. if you have ideas for what should happen in that, leave a comment! i'll reply to all of them and keep them in mind.
> 
> thank you so much!! :^)


	27. about epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not gonna go back and fix all my other notes, but my url on tumblr is now whompingwillowss!

wow, it's been nearly 2 years since i completed this story! looking back, i had literally so much fun writing this story. after all, how can you not have fun writing a fic the size of a novel??

i started this fic as a freshman in high school, and now i'm off to college. i've realized how much i missed the hobbit, and i had so much material i wrote but never used.

so, i figured why not?

i'll be writing and uploading another fic which will serve as a multi chapter epilogue, spanning from directly after the end of this fic and years onwards.

sorry that it isn't the epilogue chapter some might have been hoping for, but it is a promise! so if you enjoyed this fic, i hope you'll check out the next one!!


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